The Survivors
by phoenixnz
Summary: Macgyver asks for help from the Onyssius Foundation and Jane when his son is captured by what seems to be an Afghani terrorist group. The assignment has consequences for all of them and leads Jane on a journey of self-discovery. NB: Rated T for low-level violence. Also included are appearances from another tv show.
1. Chapter 1

Sam Malloy just knew he shouldn't have taken this assignment. He just knew it had been a bad idea. He'd told himself that a hundred times, and he hated it when he was right. Still, Mike had promised him he would look out for him and if it hadn't been for Mike Thornton's friendship, or rather, Mike's father's friendship with his old man, Sam would have turned him down flat.

But Mike had dangled a carrot of a plum photo-journalism assignment as well and Sam, ever the professional snapper with one eye in the viewfinder and another, keener eye on opportunity, couldn't pass it up.

Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, his old man used to say, and Harry Jackson, Sam's great-grandfather, probably would have had some down-home Minnesota wisdom to add to that. Not that Sam had ever met old Harry, but Macgyver had plenty of stories to tell about the old man.

He'd heard it said that the locals here in the rolling desert hills of Afghanistan didn't really like Americans. They didn't like journalists either. Which didn't bode well for Sam's odds of survival. Since he'd been captured by them. And Sam had a sinking feeling that these weren't just your average, every-day going about their business townsfolk. Not with the toys these guys were toting.

XXXXX

Jane walked along the corridor of the Onyssius Foundation. It had been a week since she'd returned from helping out some new friends, who happened to have a state-of-the-art, complete with artificial intelligence, supercar.

Just a few days before that, her father, Major Charles, had died from a massive brain aneurysm. Jane had stayed long enough for the funeral then gone to visit Metropolis to see her friend Chloe. Lois had come along, even though she was suffering from morning sickness as they'd traversed the local shopping mall. The shopping trip and the time spent with her friends had done her the world of good. She'd been able to open up with the girls, not only about losing both her parents in such a short time, but also about a few other things.

A lot had changed in the year or so since she'd left the Centre. There, she had been forced to Pretend simulations, without the benefit of humanity, or emotions. To use her training and eidetic memory to become anything they wanted her to be. The only reason she was not still there was because the man who had bought the Centre, Lex Luthor, had forced her to kidnap a man she now considered a good friend. Clark Kent. Clark had amazing powers and very few people now knew that Clark had taken on the identity of Superman. While he usually patrolled the streets of Metropolis to prevent crime, he had also helped out in a few disasters around the world.

Jane had no idea why the people of Metropolis didn't manage to connect the dots and discover that Superman was none other than Clark Kent. She could only assume that Clark used some kind of signal to stop people from learning the truth, but it really didn't matter. He had become known as Earth's protector and she wasn't about to knock it.

It had taken some time for her to get back to a friendly footing with Clark. It wasn't the fact that Lex had made her kidnap him. Clark understood that she'd had little choice. Back in the Centre, Jane had obeyed orders without question. It was the only thing she really knew how to do. She'd never had an independent thought. At least, not since she'd been an adult. All the abuse she had been through had only reinforced their lessons that she was just a tool. An instrument controlled by their hands.

By the time she left, Jarod, her brother and a fellow Pretender, had organised for her to have extensive therapy. And it had worked, to a certain degree. Determined to make Lex Luthor pay dearly for what he had done to her, and had done to Clark Kent, in which he had nearly killed the young man, Jane had returned to Metropolis with a plan to take Lex down for good. But she hadn't taken into account how Clark and others would feel about her deception and when they'd realised what she had done, it had almost destroyed the fragile friendships she had made.

It had also destroyed any chance she had of a real relationship with billionaire Oliver Queen. Jane had fallen hard for the blonde man. He'd been the first man she'd ever slept with and it seemed like he had felt the same way about her. But after he'd learned what she had done, he had felt so betrayed he had refused to have any more to do with her.

Jane sighed as she walked along the corridor, thinking about her former lover. In the past few months, he had sunk to new lows. His company had come close to bankruptcy, forcing Jarod and a former business rival, Bruce Wayne, to step in and take over. He had spent half his time partying with every woman who crossed his path and it had hurt.

Jane had tried to forget him. She had tried to move on. When she'd met Dean Winchester, a small part of her had hoped that there might be something more. But Dean's life didn't have any room for relationships. Then there had been Michael Knight. Smart and good-looking, the sex between them had been amazing, but Mike was in love with Sarah, even if he refused to acknowledge those feelings. And that had left Jane back at square one.

Sighing again, she opened the door to her sister-in-law's office. Parker looked up.

"That's quite a sigh," she remarked.

"Yeah." Jane flopped down on the chair.

"Everything okay?"

Jane looked at Jarod's wife. Parker was an incredibly beautiful woman, even if she had a few more lines on her face and more grey in her hair. She often joked that being the mom of twins was enough to turn anyone's hair grey.

"Yeah."

"How was the shopping trip?"

"Great. It was fun, actually. Although Lois was still feeling a bit under the weather. Oh," she gasped, "I meant to ask you. Do you have anything for morning sickness? I think Lois could really use the assist."

"Sure. I'll see if I can find my list when I get home and I'll email it to you. If I have any remedies still at home, I'll send them over."

"Thanks. How have things been here?"

"You know Jarod," Parker said with a shrug. "Throws himself into work rather than deal with everything else."

"Yeah, I know how that feels."

"Jarod wanted to talk to you. He's in a meeting with a potential client right now and he asked me to tell you to stop in."

"Did he say what it was about?" Jane said with a frown.

Parker shook her head. "But I'd hustle if I were you, sis. You know Jarod gets impatient sometimes."

"Yeah, don't I know it," Jane said dryly.

She walked into Jarod's office. A man sitting in one of the seats in the office looked around, then got up. He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, with almost white hair. Jane guessed he would have been extremely attractive when he was younger. He still had a handsomeness about his features, although age had dimmed them somewhat.

"Jane, welcome back. How was Metropolis?"

"Great. Picked up a few bargains. Chloe and Lois have me convinced that retail therapy is always the best kind of therapy."

"They're a bad influence on you," her brother remarked, his eyes twinkling.

"Never!" she retorted. She looked pointedly at the older man, then at Jarod.

"Mister Macgyver, this is my sister, Jane. Jane, this is Mr Macgyver."

"Actually," the older man said. "I just prefer Macgyver. How you doing, Jane?" He reached out a hand and she shook it politely.

"Jane, Macgyver has something he wants to discuss with us."

"Oh? A new assignment?"

"Possibly."'

Macgyver pulled out a photograph. For a moment, Jane thought it was an old photograph of Macgyver himself. The features were almost identical.

"This is my son, Sam. He's a photo-journalist. He went into Afghanistan five days ago on an assignment. I haven't heard from him since."

"Wasn't there a little uprising a few months ago?" Jane asked.

Macgyver nodded. "Sam's editor asked him to cover it. Photo essay. I would have gone to try and get him myself, but, well, I hate to admit it, but I'm too old to go halfway around the world. Anyway, an old buddy of mine used to work at the Phoenix Foundation and he suggested you guys."

"Phoenix Foundation?" Jane frowned. "Isn't that a think tank?"

"Something like that. It was run by another old buddy of mine. Pete Thornton. Pete passed away a few years ago." Jane could see from the man's expression that the loss of his friend had been devastating for him.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Macgyver shrugged."Pete had been unwell for some time. He went blind due to Glaucoma."

"Still, I can see it was difficult for you to lose such a close friend."

"Jane ..." Jarod said warningly. Jane looked at her brother.

"What? It's called empathy, Jarod."

"And Macgyver doesn't need to be analysed."

She threw up her hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, fine. Macgyver, what is it you need us to do?"

"Get him out." Macgyver chuckled. "Sam would hate it. I mean he's pretty self-reliant. He has been since he was nine when his mother was killed, but ..."

"We think there may be some connection between this insurgence and a case you were working on with FLAG," Jarod said, meaning the Foundation for Law and Government.

"In what way?" Jane asked curiously.

"The weapons they've been supplied with came from here."

"Ortega?"

Jarod nodded. Jane thought for a moment. Sonny Ortega considered himself to be some sort of crime boss. He was basically into anything that would make a solid profit: guns, drugs. It didn't surprise Jane in the least that someone like Ortega would sell arms to terrorist groups.

"Tell me more about Sam. You said his mom was killed when he was nine?"

Macgyver nodded

"I knew Kate in college. We were together for a few months, then we split up and I met another girl. Amy. Well, Amy and I were pretty serious, but Kate and I were still friends, I guess. I suppose we realised that we were never really meant to be. Anyway, I dropped out just before graduation to take up a job on a tramp freighter, and that was pretty much the end of that."

"How did Kate die?"

"She was shot. By a Colonel in the Red Chinese Army. She was working on a story about the dissident movement. The official story is she was resisting arrest. But Sam saw it happen and he told me his mother was executed."

Jane gasped. What a horrible way to die, she thought.

"Anyway, I didn't know about Sam until he was nineteen. He was chasing a story involving the same man who killed his mother."

Jane got the impression that Sam got his resilience and his independence from his father as much as his mother. Macgyver certainly struck her as an extremely intelligent man. Not quite up to Pretender level, she thought as she continued to talk with the man, but certainly very high on the spectrum.

She was fascinated as he began to tell stories about his youth and how he had learned the skills to take whatever he needed from his environment to solve problems. She admired the fact that Macgyver seemed to be able to come up with a solution which didn't require using a gun. Jane didn't like them much either, but she often felt she had little choice in the matter. Especially when she needed to be taken seriously.

Macgyver told her he had retired to Minnesota. As much as he wanted to go after Sam himself, he knew that he wasn't up to it. While he still consulted for the Phoenix Foundation on the odd occasion, he had left that life behind him long ago. Now he was happy in his old house in rural Minnesota; fishing, hunting or doing whatever took his fancy. He had considered settling down to raise a family, but the one woman he'd considered settling down for had married someone else.

Sam, on the other hand, still had the wanderlust that seemed to be a common family trait. And now he was in trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had learned a few languages over the years but he had trouble with the dialect of the people holding him. The most he had been able to make out was a tentative plan to hold him for ransom, forcing an exchange of some of their people in Guantanamo Bay.

A year earlier, a lawyer appointed by the US Secretary of Defense had revealed in an interview with famed journalist Bob Woodward that a man alleged to be involved in the September 11 terrorist attacks had been tortured at Gitmo, so named after the military abbreviation for the Naval Base.

Sam did have some sympathy for the man. But he had no sympathy for terrorists. A friend of his had been one of the people killed in the attack on the World Trade Center. An innocent woman caught up in someone else's war.

It was fairly clear that the group holding him were no amateurs. The question was, who was financing them? Sam thought. The hardware they were using was certainly not cheap. And even an Afghani militia unit did not have the resources to be able to finance something like this.

Sam looked at his fellow prisoners. There was a woman from the BBC who had also been taken, as well as a French photo-journalist, an Australian correspondent for a national news network and a kid from Texas who was neither a reporter nor a photographer and had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

They had all been part of a news convoy, headed toward one of the smaller cities to cover some insurgence there. The truck they had been in had been bombed, killing the driver. The soldiers escorting them had been forced down on their knees on the ground, then shot in the head. Sam had been unable to help the flashback to when he had been nine years old and had witnessed his mother being killed in the same manner.

There was some chattering between three of their captors and Sam struggled to make out what they were saying. None of his fellow captives understood either and they all looked at each other fearfully. One of the men approached them, dragging the woman to her feet.

"Noooo!" she cried.

Sam immediately stood up, speaking in halting Arabic.

"No. Leave her alone. Take me instead."

The man dropped the woman and used the butt of his rifle to smash it into Sam's temple. He stumbled, his vision darkening as stars flashed before his eyes, but he refused to give in. Dizzy, he felt himself being pulled out of the makeshift cell, dragged out into the bright sunlight in the middle of the compound and pushed to his knees.

He could see a camera being held by one of the men.

"Speak!" he was ordered. "Tell your American government what we will do if we do not get what we want," a second man said in Arabic. "Tell them we will kill you all if they do not release the prisoners in Cuba."

Sam relayed exactly what they told him to say, conscious of the blood congealing on the side of his head. He supposed it made for an effective demonstration at least.

"One week," the man told him. "One week or we will kill you all, one by one. Starting with you."

Sam swallowed. He'd been in bad situations before, but this was really bad. And no Macgyvering was going to get him out of this one.

XXXXX

Broots was often known as a bit of, as the twins would say, a 'scaredy cat'. It was true that he was always a little nervy, especially around Miss Parker. He was even worse when it came to Jarod. He had been assigned to work with Parker in the years she had pursued the Pretender up and down the country, but at least in many ways he could have considered her a friend.

Okay, he thought, so Jarod had helped him out on more than one occasion, even when they had supposedly been on opposite sides. Despite his nervousness, he knew that the couple respected his work. He was a skilled computer technician – a geek, as he'd been called fairly frequently. He knew his job and he did it well.

Still, there were times when he had to deliver bad news. Like the time he had learned The Centre was up and running again. Well, he had been a little behind the eight ball on that one, he thought with a wry grin. Jarod had always been at least two steps ahead of him. At times maybe even twelve steps ahead. He'd known about The Centre and what Lex Luthor had planned to do with it.

And the news he was about to deliver was not good.

Jane was in the foundation's common room, headphones on her head, her nose buried in a book on Arabic. Broots guessed she was listening to some Arabic speech so she could get the pronunciation right.

Broots waved a hand in front of her face.

"Uh, Jane?"

She looked up, startled, so absorbed in what she had been doing that she hadn't even noticed him there.

"Geez Broots. Give a girl a coronary, why don't you?"

"Sorry," he said. "Uh, I have some news. About the case. Mr Macgyver's case."

"Oh?" she said, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah. Where is he, exactly?"

"Um, I think I saw him chatting with Syd. It doesn't sound good, Broots."

He nodded. "Can you go grab him and meet me back in the lab?"

"Sure," she said, getting up from the couch. "Want me to get Parker and Jarod?"

He nodded again, although with that sixth sense that Parker seemed to have, he had a feeling that she would already be on her way.

Broots headed back to the lab. Sure enough, Parker was there with Jarod.

"I got the feeling you had some news for us," she said.

Jarod nudged his wife affectionately and she grinned at him. She might have mellowed around her husband but it was a different story when she was alone with someone else.

"Broots!" she said. "Snap to it!"

"I'm waiting for Jane and Mister Macgyver," he said.

"Actually, he prefers just Macgyver," Jarod said with a grin. He turned to the door as it opened. "Just in time. Macgyver, meet Broots. Our computer technician."

"Hey Broots. How you doing?"

"Fine. Uh, I came across a newscast that I think you should see."

He quickly accessed the network and brought up the newscast. It had screened less than thirty minutes earlier.

Macgyver gasped as his son appeared on the screen. His face was dirty and bloodied, his clothes ragged and torn.

"My name is Sean Angus Malloy. I am being held, along with three others, by a group calling themselves the SA'B Liberation Army. They demand that all prisoners at Guantanamo Bay be released and returned to their homelands. If their demands are not met within one week, they will start killing all hostages. Starting with me."

Macgyver sank down on the chair, his head in his hands as Sam went on to explain that they had chosen to take journalists from various news media organisations as they blamed the media for spreading false information about their organisation and the people at Gitmo.

Jarod placed a comforting hand on the older man's shoulder. Broots glanced at Parker, then at Jane.

"So I have a week," she sighed softly.

"He hates that name," Macgyver said finally.

"What name?" Jarod asked.

"Angus. His mother gave him that name, but he's always used Sam, his initials."

"Because it's your first name?" Jane asked. Jarod shot her a look and she shrugged, looking unrepentant. "What? Oh come on, Jarod. S.O.P, remember? And there's nothing wrong with the name. Sure, it's a little old-fashioned, I guess, but you know it's not like my name is unique. I mean, except for the fact that Clark gave me the name."

Macgyver looked at her and frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's a long story. Look, Macgyver, you know the territory. You've been there before. So we can start with you telling me everything I need to know. Broots, can you analyse the footage and see if you can come up with anything that might tell me where they're located?"

Broots nodded. "Sure, Jane. I'll get right on it."

"I know someone in Washington who might be able to give us more information about this terrorist group. He would probably know of some Marine units based in the country."

"Thanks big brother," Jane smiled.

She led Macgyver out and down to the common room. He sat on the couch. Jane grabbed a couple of cups, then looked at him.

"Coffee? Oh, right, you don't drink it do you."

"Bad for my health," he smiled.

"We have some Lapsang Souchong tea if you prefer," she suggested.

"Sounds good."

Jane began making herself a cappuccino using the cappuccino maker Jarod had had installed.

"I know it's bad, but I do like my coffee. I usually try to stick to one or two a day. I have this friend, in Metropolis. She introduced me to it. Well, whenever I visit her, we go to this coffee place in Smallville. She tells me she's been getting coffee from there since she was about fifteen. She claims she's not addicted, but ..." She grinned.

"What's your friend's name?" Macgyver asked.

"Chloe. For a while there, we weren't all that close, but now I consider her one of my best friends. I would do anything for her."

"It's great to have someone you're close to," Macgyver smiled. "It was like that for me and Pete. When I was in high school, I had two of the best friends a guy could ask for. Jack and Mike. We did everything together."

Jane couldn't help but see the fond smile on Macgyver's face.

"They sound like they were great guys."

"One was a girl, actually. Her real name was Michaela, but she hated it. So we always called her Mike."

"What happened to her?"

"Have you ever heard of a mountain called the Widowmaker?"

Jane shook her head.

"Well, it's this huge mountain. Mike took me up climbing, and I hate heights. Anyway, Mike slipped and her harness broke. She fell."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry."

Jane got the sense that Macgyver had blamed himself for the accident, but it had clearly been an accident.

"And what's Jack doing now?"

Macgyver grinned. "I see Jack in Minnesota now and again. He was always trying these get rich quick schemes and fly-by-nighters, but they never seemed to pan out. He's a good guy, Jack, but just a little flaky sometimes." He turned reflective. "Pete ... now Pete was a great guy. My best friend."

Jane finished making her coffee and handed him his tea, sitting down next to him.

"How did you meet Pete?"

"Oh well, it's kind of a long story. And we always told people different stories, depending on the person. We once told this girl that we met in the desert. Something about a camel. Well, that did happen, but we had already known each other a year or so before that. Anyway, I was driving a taxi around, helping Jack out, who had broken his leg ..."

Jane listened to Macgyver's story as he related how he had taken a fare for a woman who had turned out to be a man, who had turned out to be a hitman. Pete had been an agent for the Department of External Services who had been chasing down the hitman. Macgyver had helped Pete go after the assassin and they had ended up chasing him into a building about to be demolished. They had thought that was the end of the hitman until seven years later.

"But that's another story," Macgyver said. "Anyway, Pete would call on me and ask for my help and eventually I began freelancing for the DXS, until Pete took over as director of the Phoenix Foundation."

"And that's how you found us? The Onyssius Foundation?"

"Yeah, well, Mike Thornton – that's Pete's son, by the way, knew of you guys as Jarod helped them stop a couple of guys trying to steal a formula from them. And he felt kind of bad because he talked Sam into going to Afghanistan."

Jane nodded. "Speaking of which," she said. "Tell me what I'm dealing with."

"Well, the best way I can do that is to tell you about the time I was sent in to recover some classified data. See, what happened was, I was flying a jet over the Pakistani-Afghan border when my plane was shot down. I parachuted out and landed close to the satellite which held the data, but by the time I managed to get to it, the local militia and the Soviet soldiers had already been alerted."

Macgyver had rigged up a hang glider, but he'd been shot in the air and forced to crash land. He'd been found by a young boy and taken to his home so his mother could care for him. Still wounded, and having to deal with the leader of the local militia as well didn't make for the most pleasant stay in the Middle Eastern country. Macgyver had convinced the boy's mother to help him across the border, teaching the teenager a valuable lesson on the way.

"Would this militia group still be around?" Jane asked when Macgyver had finished his story.

"I'm sure there will be militia groups still around. Most of the Afghanis are pretty peaceful. I can still contact Ahmed. He's married now, with a family of his own. He returned to his homeland a few years ago, after the fall of Communism. But we keep in touch."

"Good. He might be able to provide me with some local information."

XXXXX

Jarod, meanwhile, was making some contact of his own. The Foundation had a communications room with a huge screen. He stood in front of it with an earpiece in his ear, looking at the man on the screen.

"I'd really appreciate anything you can get," he said.

The silver-haired man with the ice blue eyes nodded.

"We've tangled with a few terrorist groups before. I'll talk to my Mossad agent and see what we can come up with. What's the deadline?"

"A week. Our client's son is slated to be the first victim."

"Yeah, and the president is not likely to negotiate with terrorists."

Jarod nodded. "Thanks Jethro," he said. "Call me when your people have something."

He smiled as he signed off. He had known Leroy Jethro Gibbs for about ten years, having helped the NCIS uncover a terrorist bombing plot in their own backyard, so to speak. Jarod had gone in, pretending to be a naval officer at Norfolk after he'd learned a young officer had been killed. The dead man had been framed for murder and treason, but Jarod had found the real killer who had been trying to cover up his own involvement with a terrorist group.

Gibbs had been the only agent who had managed to see through Jarod's Pretend, but Jarod had convinced him that they could work together instead of against each other. Gibbs had grudgingly agreed to the plan. The two men had become, if not friends, then at least more than mere acquaintances. While Gibbs remained stubbornly against civilian assistance, Jarod had still offered and the two men had built up a grudging respect for each other's skills.


	3. Chapter 3

It got cold fairly quickly out here in the desert. Sam was used to a lot of different climates and he considered himself fairly resilient, but this was different.

His dad had taught him a lot about survival skills. He'd once told him the story of how he and a friend of his, Nikki Carpenter, had been stuck in the mountains. Macgyver had come prepared, like the boy scout he tried to pretend he was, but Nikki hadn't. So Mac had used pine needles for insulation inside Nikki's jacket. Nikki had complained half the night about how itchy they were, but at least she didn't get hypothermia.

Nikki had decided to go back to Washington where she'd grown up a few months after she'd fallen for the wrong guy who had tried to kill Mac and Nikki's boss Pete Thornton. She had loved her job at the Phoenix Foundation, but the man's betrayal and her blindness toward him had hurt. Sam had often wondered whether there had been anything more than just friendship between his father and Nikki, but Mac had assured him there would never be anything but that.

Sam grinned. His dad was a highly intelligent man but like all smart men his mind tended to wander off on tangents from time to time. Sam was a lot like his father, to a large degree, but he'd never really considered that to be a common trait.

He curled up, his arms around his knees in an effort to keep warm, remembering what prompted the recall of that story about Nikki. There were no pine needles around and nothing to insulate himself against the freezing wind.

Lord it was cold! As his teeth began to chatter and his body began to ache with shivering, Sam noticed one of his fellow captives practically turning blue. Glancing toward their captors, Sam shifted, trying not to attract too much attention to himself as he put an arm around the woman, who was probably a good ten years older than him.

"Body heat is the best way to keep warm in the absence of anything more practical," he told her softly.

Their captors quickly noticed Sam had changed positions and began berating him in rapid Arabic. Sam glared at them.

"You want to keep us alive for at least a week so you'll have something to negotiate with, then the last thing you need is for one of us to get hypothermia."

He spoke in English, knowing at least one of them would understand him. The men began talking amongst themselves, then one of them nodded.

"You like to test us, American. Very well. We will let you have your way. For now."

Big of you, Sam thought, but didn't voice it. He sighed and settled down for the night, wondering if there was any way to get out of this.

XXXXX

Macgyver was watching Jane train in the gym at the Foundation. She had already done her Tai Chi and was now working on the big bag, punching and kicking it with as much force as she could manage.. Sweat was pouring down her face and she brushed the loose tendrils of hair back impatiently.

"You take your workout seriously," Macgyver commented.

She looked up at him and grinned. "Yeah, guess I do."

Deciding it was time to finish up, Jane stripped off the gloves and grabbed the towel from the bench, wiping the sweat off the back of her neck and tossing it, then picked up the bottle of water and took a long drink.

"You really think you're going to be able to get in there?" Macgyver asked.

"Is it because I'm a woman, Macgyver?"

He grinned. "Nah. I mean a friend of mine once called me a closet sexist, but no, it's not about that. It's the fact you're going in solo."

"That never seemed to worry you," she said. "What do you mean, closet sexist."

"Uh, we just ... we were assigned to work together to recover some sensitive material from an experimental plane that went down in the mountains in East Germany. Nikki and I, well, we didn't like each other much at first. Both had different ideas about how to approach the problem. Anyway, Pete made us pretend to be a married couple."

"Bet that went down well," she said, sipping her water.

Macgyver grinned cheesily. "Yeah. I mean, sure, Nikki's a good friend now, but we had only just met a few weeks earlier and ..."

"She was nosing in on your territory."

"Something like that."

"And she thought it was because she was a woman? Was it, Macgyver?"

He shook his head. "I just thought it would be safer for me to go in alone, that's all. Besides, those mountains were pretty tough. I was used to it, but Nikki ..."

"So it wasn't that a woman couldn't handle it, it was the fact that not everyone could handle that kind of terrain. I get that."

"I'm just ... concerned. We don't exactly know where these people are."

"That's what Broots is working on. He managed to narrow down the location to a fifty mile radius."

"Fifty miles? You're still looking for a needle in a haystack!"

"That's what's really bugging you, isn't it? The fact that we haven't pinpointed a location, or the fact that it's Sam's neck on the chopping block in six days."

Macgyver looked away from her and she knew she had it pegged right. He was, understandably, worried about his son. If Sam was anything like his father, he was probably trying to think of his own way out of the situation.

"I'm going to go take a shower," she said. "Mac, don't worry, okay? We'll find him. There are ways."

"How? I mean, I know I've been out of the rat race a while, but ..."

"Talk to Jarod," she said, before going off to shower.

XXXXX

Jarod had been busy trying to get more information from NCIS. He was currently involved in a three-way conversation with NCIS in their tactical room and the ATF in theirs.

"Jethro, if these weapons are going offshore, especially to terrorist groups, then we need to stop them."

"I'm aware of that Jarod. But this is way out of NCIS jurisdiction."

"But it's not out of ours," Jenna McGann answered. "Not if the people involved in selling the weapons are Americans." The redhead looked worriedly at Jarod. "Are you sure Ortega's involved?"

"If not him directly, then his organisation certainly," Jarod told her.

Jarod had used his vast network of contacts to put out feelers. An informant in one of the units fighting the various militia groups in Afghanistan had sent word back that a raid on one of the groups had netted several weapons with registration numbers matching those taken in a break-in of an armoury at Fort Hood. One of the suspects in that break-in had belonged to Ortega's criminal organisation.

"Have you managed to pinpoint a location yet?" Jethro asked.

"Not yet. We have it down to a fifty mile radius."

"That's a lot of ground to cover," the former marine pointed out.

Jarod knew that. He knew too that they had a deadline. But it wasn't as if he hadn't done this before. Several years ago a group had taken four teachers hostage in the Appalachian mountains. One of those teachers had been Sydney's son, Nicholas. Jarod had taken on the guise of tracking expert to find them.

"This isn't going to be like the Appalachians," Gibbs reminded him. "Your sister will be going into hostile territory. And if they're religious extremists ..."

"I know," Jarod told him.

It would be like descending into a snake pit, Jarod thought, reminded of a scene in one of his son's favourite movies. Islamic extremists tended to consider women to be second-class citizens.

"Jarod, Gibbs is right," Jenna said. "I have to ask why you're sending Jane in."

"Well, for one thing, it would be unexpected. And second, JJ is busy on another project. I can't spare him for this." Both looked dubious. "Look, Jane knows how to blend in. We weren't dubbed chameleons for nothing."

"This is more than blending in," Gibbs warned him. "Just tell her to be careful. We don't want an international incident."

"Will do," he promised, signing off.

His timing was perfect, as usual. There was a knock on the door and Parker came in.

"Hi," she said, kissing him briefly.

"Hi yourself."

"Everything okay?" his wife asked.

"Fine."

"Good. Cause the kids are driving me crazy."

"They get that from their mother."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I beg to differ there sport. I think they get that from you."

He shook his head, a teasing glint in his eye. "No way."

She teased right back. "Yes way."

"Have the kids been making you watch those movies again?"

"Catie," she grinned, "apparently has a huge crush on Keanu Reeves."

"Unlike her mother who appears to have a crush on Superman."

Parker shook her head vigorously. "I refuse to admit anything on the grounds that it may tend to incriminate me. Besides, there's someone else I have this huge crush on."

"Really?" he said, putting his arms around her and pulling her to him. "Who?"

"Hmm, tall, dark and handsome, goes by the name of Jarod."

"Mmmm," he said, kissing her nose. "Just as well, because I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie," he added, in a bad attempt at singing.

Parker snorted. "Baby, you can do a lot of things, but singing isn't one of them."

"I can learn," he said.

"There's such a thing as talent," she retorted. "And that, Mr Genius IQ is something that takes more than brains."

"Is that so?" he said.

"Yup. But don't worry, baby. You have lots of talent in ...other areas," she flirted.

"Care to demonstrate?" he said softly.

Parker didn't get a chance to continue with the game as Macgyver came in.

"Hey, Jarod," he said.

"Mac. Everything all right?"

"I've just been talking to your sister. Is she always that cocky?"

"Jane? Yeah, she probably got that from her boyfriend. Uh, ex-boyfriend," he said, seeing the glance from his wife. "Oliver tended to be pretty cocky as well."

"I'm not knocking it. It's just ... well, even I know there's such a thing as being too cocky."

"Macgyver, I know you're worried about your son, but you need to trust Jane. She knows what she's doing."

"I get that. I still think she's a little over-confident."

Parker smiled at him.

"Mac, the thing you have to understand about Jarod and Jane is they were trained for this. All their lives. They know how to plan for every contingency."

"Yes, we make mistakes. But this is why we learn everything we can about the situation and absorb as much of that information as humanly possible. So the collateral damage is minimal." Jarod nodded at the other man. "Look, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll have a talk with my sister."

"It would."

XXXXX

Jane had showered and was working with Broots trying to narrow down the search for the hostages. They had managed to pick up some of the footage and were now looking for something that might help them pinpoint the area. The trouble was, much of it was desert terrain and it all looked similar.

"Why don't we try grid six," Jane suggested, watching as Broots zeroed in on the grid. Jane began searching carefully, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the image on the giant screen, clearly thinking there was something she was overlooking. Something she couldn't see.

Jarod watched his sister. The two of them were so much alike. Both had their lives stolen from them and both had been fighting ever since to recapture what was taken. Unlike Jane though, Jarod had embraced the opportunity to learn more about the world he'd emerged in when he'd finally escaped the Centre.

His wife, although they hadn't been married when Parker had been hunting him, had often been annoyed by the little pranks Jarod had played on her. If it hadn't been flaming dog poo it had been a roach motel for humans. Okay, he thought, maybe that last one had been a little cruel. But he'd meant it as a delaying tactic as much as a prank.

There had been the nicer things he had done for her too. One Christmas, he had sent her a rabbit, knowing she had always wanted one as a child. The shame of it was, when Parker had been shot in the back and kept in hospital for over three weeks, no one had thought to feed the rabbit and it had escaped its hatch desperately needing food. The rabbit had been run over by a car. Lyle's car. Whether Parker's twin brother had done it deliberately or it had been an accident, Jarod didn't know. It was probably the former, he thought. The man was a true, blue psychopath.

Smiling a little at the way his mind had wandered, Jarod continued to stand, watching his little sister. Jane had never learned to embrace her inner child. He wondered if she even knew how to have fun. Sure, she'd spent a lot of time with that ex-boyfriend of hers playing a lot of games and he was pretty sure none of those games involved checkers.

Parker had told him about the two men Jane had slept with since the blonde billionaire and while he was absolutely certain Jane had enjoyed herself it still hadn't been fun of the kind Jarod had had learning about life's little pleasures. He was sure she had never known the joy of ice cream for breakfast, or riding on a Ferris Wheel, or discovering the story of Curious George. She might have read stories to the twins, but she had never imitated the voices of the characters.

He wondered if his sister was ever truly happy. Probably the only time she had ever ...

Jarod sucked in a breath as he realised something. Part of it had been something Macgyver had said. Yes, Jane was cocky. Probably over-confident. But it was an arrogance that came with being completely focused on the job. Jarod had learned over the years that that kind of focus was not always healthy. Not when it came at the expense of everything else.

"Jane?"

His sister looked around, appearing startled to see him there.

"Jare?"

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"I'm kind of busy. We're trying to pin down a location."

"I know that. But this is important." He glanced at Broots who was staring at him curiously. "Family stuff," he said. The other man nodded understandingly.

Jane sighed, but followed him out to his office.

"Close the door, sis," he said.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Macgyver has brought up some concerns," he said. "He thinks you're too cocky."

"Cocky?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "And what do you think?"

"I think your mind is completely focused on the job at hand. In fact, I've noticed that that's pretty much all you've been doing the past few months."

"Is that right?" she said.

"Ever since Metropolis."

"This has nothing to do with Oliver Queen," she denied, scowling.

"And the fact that you zero in on him speaks volumes. Jane, I know a lot of things went down in Metropolis, but losing yourself in your work isn't going to help you get over him."

"I never said I wasn't over him. I'm over him!"

"Are you? Jane ..."

"Jarod, stop," she said, raising a hand. "I know you're worried, but don't. Oliver was a long time ago. Besides, he's off god knows where and personally I don't give a damn if he's fallen off the face of the Earth."

"I think that would be pretty hard to do," he smiled. "They stopped thinking the Earth was flat centuries ago."

"Yeah, funny, Jarod. That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Jane, all I'm saying is, while it's good that you're dedicated to your work, it's not healthy to be so focused on it to the detriment of everything else. I mean, when's the last time you had any fun? Or took a vacation?"

"I have fun. Just ask Dean Winchester," she smirked.

Jarod almost rolled his eyes. "From what I hear, that wasn't fun; that was just sex."

"I am so not having that conversation with you," Jane told him.

"Jane, I'm being serious here. You can't have sex with someone and not let your heart get involved."

"How many women were you with over the years before Parker?"

"That's not the point. Jane ..."

"No, stop! I don't need a lecture from big brother," she said. "What happened with Oliver Queen is in the past and I'd like it to stay that way. Okay, so maybe I am more focused on my job. But it wasn't so long ago that someone could have accused you of the same thing. Or did I hear wrong that you and Parker had a huge fight a little over a year ago because you were more focused on the job than your family. And don't tell me that was different, because we both know that's not true. Jarod, I may have only been out of that hellhole for a year, but it's my life. God, give me some credit for trying!"

"That's not what I'm doing. Jane, you're my sister and I'm proud of you for what you've achieved since we got you out of the Centre. I just don't want you pretending that everything is fine when it's not. We both know what happened with Oliver hurt you deeply."

Jarod didn't say it, knowing Jane hadn't wanted him to know, but he had seen her leave the house early one morning a few weeks after she had broken up with the blonde billionaire and wander down to the beach. He'd followed her at a distance, watching as Sydney approached her. He'd known then what she'd wanted to do, but had left it up to the professional. To his relief, Sydney had managed to talk his sister down from her thoughts of suicide.

Oliver Queen had been through a similar crisis. Not that Jarod was going to share that with Jane. After Jarod had found him in some dive south of the border, Oliver had then been the target of the Toyman, who had planned to kill the other man with a bomb. Jarod had seen the footage of that particular incident and he'd known Oliver had deliberately stepped off the plate, not knowing it hadn't been real.

Jane and Oliver were similar in so many ways. One day, perhaps, they would work things out. When they stopped being such idiots, of course.

He looked up at the knock on the door. Broots.

"Uh, Jarod, Jane, I think I found something you might want to take a look at."


	4. Chapter 4

"What are we looking at?" Macgyver asked.

"Watch," Broots said, clicking the mouse and zeroing in on a small area beyond where Sam was being recorded.

"Is that a cave?" Jane asked, pointing to a small outcropping.

"Looks like it to me," Jarod replied.

"Aren't there a lot of caves?" Macgyver asked.

"Yes, but when you look at the terrain and the plant life, this looks like the southwestern corner of the country. I mean, it's desert, which means it's near the border with Iran," Jane explained. "This narrows it down considerably."

"Jane, you're not thinking of going in from Iran, are you?" Jarod asked, sounding concerned.

Jane looked at her brother.

"Given the American relationship with the politicos in Iran, I don't think that would be such a great idea."

"Why?" Broots asked.

"A couple of years ago, the Iranians were accused of backing Iraqi shi-ites and arming them in a proxy war with the US," Jarod explained. "They're not too fond of us over there."

"But if our guess is correct," Jane pointed out, "the closest American military installation to where they're holding the hostages is about a hundred miles away." Jane turned to Macgyver. "What about your friend Ahmed. Do you think he would be able to get me closer?"

Macgyver scratched his chin. "I don't know. I could ask him, I suppose. It's a huge risk though."

"How does Ahmed feel about these groups?"

"Considering his mother was once forced to have sex with the leader of a militia group, Ahmed has ambivalent feelings toward them. He certainly doesn't trust them."

Jane stared at him. "What? You mean he raped her?"

Jarod put a hand on her shoulder. "Jane, unfortunately that kind of thing is something we can do nothing about. Having said that, it means you need to be doubly careful. Most Muslim people are fairly peaceful, but you will get the Islamic extremists who believe women are less than second-class citizens. If they were to catch you ..."

"I won't get caught," she assured him.

"Jane, what did I just say about being too cocky?"

Jane turned on her brother. "Why do I get the feeling it's not being too cocky you're concerned about?" she asked. "I think the real problem is, you don't trust me!"

"That's not true, sis, you ..."

"Then why are you treating me like a goddamn child? I'm not going in this fucking blind you know. I have done my research and I know exactly what I'm dealing with. So get out of my fucking face!"

Jane strode angrily out of the room, slamming the door. She pushed the door of the common room open, brushing away angry tears as she flopped down on the couch. Jarod just didn't get her. She made one mistake and yes it had cut deeply when the man she'd fallen in love with had turned on her for it, but was she going to keep paying for it the rest of her life?

A hand stroked her hair.

"Sweetie, don't you think you might have over-reacted just a little bit?"

Jane looked at her sister-in-law for a long moment, then shrugged.

"Yeah, maybe. It's just ... I don't think he gets me, sometimes."

Parker shook her head. "Honey, of all people, Jarod is the only one who can fully understand you. You know he went through the same thing in the Centre. Perhaps he had more of his humanity than you do and that gives him a different perspective on things, but it just means he worries about you more. He knows you have difficulty controlling your emotions sometimes."

"What does that have to do with me going into Afghanistan?"

"Jane, I do know how it feels to see an injustice happening and know there's nothing you can do about it. I think that's what Jarod's worried about the most. That you'll see the way some of the men treat the women there and you'll get yourself killed trying to fix it. Sweetie, it's a harsh reality that there are some things even geniuses can't fix."

"I know what I'm going in there to do, Parker," Jane said, sniffling. "I know I have to get the hostages out."

"Jarod just needs to know that you're not going to go off half-cocked over some crusade to free women from their 'bondage'."

Jane snorted. "You said bondage."

Parker gave her a quick tap on the back of the head. "Grow up, Jane! My point is ..."

"I know what your point is. You can't change a culture that's existed for thousands of years overnight. I know that. I just wish you could make Jarod understand that."

Jane had read enough about the culture and the way some women were repressed that it completely disgusted her. She had read too many stories of young girls who had been raped forced to marry their rapists to save their family from shame; of girls as young as five years old married off to old men. It was wrong, but they either didn't want to fight it or didn't know enough to fight it.

She knew she had to switch off those feelings if she was going to get in and out of Afghanistan safely. Especially with the hostages. There was no way they were just going to let her walk in and negotiate. She was a woman, which made it doubly dangerous for her.

She took a few calming breaths, then walked back to the computer lab with Parker. Jarod, Broots and Macgyver were looking over some geographical maps, but all three men looked up as they entered. Jarod opened his mouth to speak and she held up a hand. He immediately fell silent.

"Macgyver, I'm sorry for the little outburst. Sometimes my temper gets the best of me. I didn't have an easy time of it where I grew up and I sometimes have difficulty controlling my emotions. However, you didn't need to see that and I apologise."

Macgyver shrugged philosophically. Clearly Jarod had let the older man in on a few things while she had been gone. She turned back to her brother.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I mean, it would be nice if you could just trust that I know what I'm dealing with, but I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"I'm sorry too, sis. I seem to keep holding what happened in Metropolis over your head and you don't deserve that. I know you've done your research over this and I should learn to trust you more."

Parker squeezed her arm and she smiled at the older woman before going over to Jarod and giving him an awkward hug.

"So, what are you planning, Jane?" Macgyver asked finally.

"Well, if Jarod can call in a few favours, I'll see if the marines can fly me in as close as possible. I'll hike it from there, unless Ahmed or one of his friends can help."

"Fly? Won't they pick up the plane?" Broots asked. "I mean, if these guys are heavily armed, they gotta have some kind of radar."

"Very good point, Broots," Jarod said and the bald man beamed.

Jane snickered quietly to herself. Broots was the kind of man who liked to be praised. Parker obviously hadn't done enough of that in the Centre. She shot a look at the older woman, who rolled her eyes and smiled. Jane remembered something Kyle had once said about his 'uncle Broots' when he'd snuck up on the older man with a water pistol.

"What's with the looks?" Macgyver asked.

"Private joke," Parker returned.

"No, really."

"Uh, well, Broots spent years working for Parker, helping her chase Jarod, but he's always been kind of nervy. Kyle, that's my nephew, calls him a ...what was it, Broots?"

Broots flushed. "Scaredy-cat." He scowled. "Hey, if you'd worked in the Centre with the likes of Mr Raines or Mr Lyle breathing down your neck, you'd be nervous too."

"Ah, but it wasn't Mr Lyle breathing down your neck," Parker said, standing behind him. Broots jumped.

"Honey, that's just mean," Jarod laughed.

Parker cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you kidding? I remember a time when Broots used to be so scared of you he'd practically wet his tighty whities."

"Yeah, make fun of the geek," Broots said.

Jane chuckled and shook him. "I'm sorry Brootsy, you know we love you, don't you?"

"Like a hole in the head," the man muttered.

Jarod grinned, then looked at Macgyver.

"My wife can be scary at the best of times, but Mr Raines ..." he shuddered. "He wasn't nicknamed The Ghoul for nothing. He was almost permanently attached to this oxygen tank. Emphysema. He was a chain smoker for years."

"Glad I gave that up," Parker commented.

"Yeah, I used to before I went to 'Nam," Macgyver said. "Trust me, you don't want to be doing that in the kind of jobs I was doing."

"What exactly were you doing?" Jane asked him.

"Defusing bombs," the older man told her.

"You're kidding!"

"I had this friend, Charlie. We used to keep a tally of all the bombs we defused. Anyway, I hadn't seen him for about, oh, ten years or so, when he showed up to help defuse a bomb on a cruise ship."

Macgyver looked grieved and Jane immediately knew what had happened.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Macgyver looked at her. "Charlie knew the risks. So did I. I forget who said it, some general, I think who would yell at his troops and say, 'come on, you wanna live forever'?"

"No one can live forever," Parker said.

"Except Superman," Broots commented.

"But this is getting off topic."

"You sure have lived an interesting life, Macgyver," Jane told the older man. "You should write a book about it."

"No one would believe it," Macgyver said. "Hell, sometimes even I don't believe it."

XXXXX

Jarod had everything arranged that evening and Jane was due to fly out with a marine unit on a diplomatic cover early the next morning. Gibbs hadn't been easily persuaded, but Jarod had informed him there were no other options.

"Your sister better know what she's doing," the NCIS agent growled. "I'm putting a hell of a lot on the line."

"Jethro, I've had it recently brought home to me that I need to learn to trust my sister more, and you need to trust me. Just make sure she has all the papers she needs."

"They'll be waiting for her when she gets to Pendleton. She'll take a marine transpo from there to Leatherneck. It's the closest I could get."

"Thanks Jethro."

"Don't thank me yet. The director and the SECNAV are breathing down my neck asking what the hell we're doing planning an operation that is clearly out of our jurisdiction. These people are journalists, Jarod. Civilians. If your sister screws this up, it's not just their necks on the line."

"If it comes to that, Jenna will cover from her end," Jarod promised.

He returned to the office. Jane had decided it wasn't worth going home, since she would be leaving about four in the morning to get to Camp Pendleton. She was sitting in the common room with an assortment of Chinese food.

"Want some moo goo gai pan?" she asked, holding the box.

"Yeah, thanks. Listen, Jane, when you get back, I think we need to have a long talk. Especially over what happened in Metropolis."

"I don't think there's really anything to say that hasn't already been said. I screwed up."

"Yes, you did," he said, not trying to be hurtful toward his sister. "But so did I. I let you go too early and I let you get involved with Oliver." He raised a hand as she opened her mouth to protest. "Just listen to me for a second, okay? I saw what was happening between the two of you on his visits here and I didn't listen to my instincts. It would have been better for both of you if you had just slowed things down, but you were in too much of a hurry. You wanted to experience life, I get that.

"When I first escaped from the Centre, everything was new. There was nothing I didn't find fascinating, and yes, I did go overboard trying to experience it all at once. The thing is, sis, I had an advantage over you because I still had my humanity. That was something you had to learn and emotions were something that had been repressed in you for so long you didn't know how to control them. The problem was, you dove head first into a relationship without understanding all of what that entailed."

Jane had been silent all this time, her head bowed. She looked up at him.

"Jarod, I appreciate what you're trying to say, and you might be right on some points, but you need to try and remember that it is my life and my decision to make. I'm going to screw up sometimes, I know that, but Sydney says making mistakes is the thing that makes us human. We have to make mistakes to understand ourselves and what we're capable of. I've had nearly a year to think about what happened in Metropolis and I know what I did to Oliver and Clark was wrong, but you need to let it go. You need to trust that I have learned from that experience, from those mistakes."

Jarod nodded. He admired his sister for her restraint. He had seen the nerve jumping in her cheek and realised she was fighting to keep from losing her temper. He didn't like harping on about it, but the truth was, he just didn't want to see her get hurt again. Parker would probably have shaken him and told him to tell his sister how he really felt, but he'd never been very good at talking about his feelings. He'd been taught far too much about analysing the situation.

"So, uh, you all packed for Pendleton?" he asked.

"Yup."

"What about when you get to Afghanistan?"

"I'm ready, Jay, don't worry."

The plan was for her to join troops heading to another base and jump from the plane mid-way. The only trouble was, Jane had never parachuted from a plane before.

"You know what to do?" he asked. "Don't forget you'll be jumping in darkness."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about it. What if the jump goes bad?"

"I'm not going to lie and tell you it hardly ever happens, but you just need to trust your instructor and hope he's packed your parachute correctly," he added with a grin.

Jane rolled her eyes at him.

"Somehow I don't find that very reassuring."

He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it. He realised that in spite of her protestations about him not trusting her, she did need reassurance that she was doing the right thing. "You'll be fine, sis. You know the risks and you've planned for every contingency. What could go wrong?"

What indeed?


	5. Chapter 5

Jane was not impressed when she made it to Camp Pendleton and found who was waiting for her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked.

"Boss had a case he wanted me to look at in Leatherneck."

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo sent her a smirk which just made her want to kick him in the balls. She had met DiNozzo briefly about six months earlier when she'd attended a function in Washington. Tony had flirted with her all night, which had just pissed her off.

The man was leering at her cleavage. Jane fought the urge to cover up, ignoring the man and turning away.

"What's wrong Janie? Get up on the wrong side of bed this morning?"

Considering she'd been up since three-thirty, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Don't call me that!" she said.

Only one person had ever called her 'Janie' and she wasn't in the mood to discuss that with the NCIS agent, who she knew from her research was an incorrigible flirt.

"Just tell me why the hell you're hitching a ride on this flight," she said as they walked across the tarmac to the plane.

"Like I said, boss asked me to check on a case." He glanced at the man standing beside the cargo door and nodded. "Gunnery sergeant. Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Ms Smith."

"I was told to expect you. Ma'am, might I suggest you cover up?" he said, looking pointedly at her chest. "We got a lot of boys coming with us and some of them don't get a lot of, uh, civilian action."

DiNozzo sent her a smug look and Jane kicked him in the ankle as she passed, dumping her bag on the metal gangway before pulling out a leather jacket and putting it on, zipping it tightly. As she continued on inside to strap herself on the canvas seat, she distinctly heard at least three of the men commenting about her ass.

Jane lifted her head and sent those she believed had spoken a cold look. DiNozzo settled in the seat next to her.

"Don't worry about her guys," he said. "Her bark is worse than her bite."

Jane ignored him, turning away as she fumbled with the seat harness. Tony reached around her to help her and she flapped at him.

"I can do it!"

"Relax," he said, deliberately brushing her chest as he pulled the harness and secured it.

"You did that on purpose!" she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Did not!" he returned, sounding more like a five year old than a man in his late thirties or possibly early forties. She hadn't got around to reading his dossier.

"I don't like being touched, DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, I heard you the first million times in DC," he said, reminding her of the party. Well, he'd kept touching her, especially in inappropriate places.

Jane remembered Michael Knight had noticed the same thing. It was true that she didn't like being touched unless she initiated it. Of course, with Oliver it had been different. Once you'd been intimate with someone, she thought, it was a little difficult to keep up boundaries.

As the plane engines warmed up, vibrating through the walls, Jane thought about the things her brother had said. Maybe he had been right. Maybe she had gone too early. Getting so intimate with Oliver so early had been a huge mistake. Sure, they'd made up for that by backing off and taking the time to get to know each other, but still ... she had barely been out of the Centre six months before she'd slept with someone. Yes, Jarod might have sounded a little hypocritical since he'd slept with a woman a few months after his escape, but the difference was, he had retained some of his humanity.

The plane shuddered and gave a sickening lurch and Jane was relieved it had been too early for breakfast. As it was, the coffee she'd drunk threatened to come back up to meet her.

"Want a paper bag?" Tony asked and she glared at him wanting to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Shut up!" she snarled.

"Ooh, great comeback Pretender!"

She stomped on his foot. Unfortunately it had little effect since he was wearing leather shoes with steel caps.

"Gibbs should never have told you about that," she hissed.

"Aw, what's wrong?" he said, thrusting out his bottom lip, mocking her. "Are little Janie's feelings hurt?"

"I told you, don't call me that, you shithead!"

"Strong words," he said.

"Drop dead!"

Tony turned, grinning at one of the men beside him. "She wants me!"

"Like hell!" she growled. "You're not my type."

"What is your type?" he asked, turning back to her. "Tall, blonde and stupid?"

He'd clearly heard about her and Oliver, but if there was one thing Oliver was not, it was stupid.

"No, Tony, that would be your type. My type is smart, funny, tall, blonde and built like a mother ... And he's got a big ..." She reached in between his legs and squeezed.

Tony's eyes almost popped out of his head. Jane grinned in triumph as he looked at her, stunned into silence. Jane caught the grin from the gunnery sergeant. He winked at her.

"That'll show 'em, ma'am," he said.

The sergeant was probably no more than about twenty-two or twenty-three, Jane thought, but he had clearly seen some action. He had a ragged scar along his jawline which appeared to have been caused by a knife.

This was going to be a long flight, Jane groaned inwardly. She decided now was a good time to start practicing some of her meditation techniques.

XXXXX

Sam watched another night fall, glancing anxiously at the guards. If only there was some way for him to escape, but he had checked all around the cavern, or as much as he could without moving and attracting too much attention to himself. His father had taught him a few lessons about using what he had, but the trouble was, all he had was dirt and more dirt, and possibly a few matches.

He supposed he could try to get hold of one of the guns. Sam had never had any problems with guns like his father had. He remembered Macgyver telling him the reason for it. Sam knew he would have had issues with it if one of his best friends had shot himself, but then, he had seen his mother shot in the head; executed, and it hadn't put him off using guns.

Still, he realised a long time ago that using violence to fight violence wasn't going to change things. Maybe Macgyver hadn't managed to change the world, or people's opinions about things like that, but he had managed to effect change in small ways. After all, that was what a think tank like the Phoenix Foundation had been built for. To change the world in small ways.

Miranda, the woman from the BBC, whimpered. They only had three more days before all hell would let loose and she was afraid. So was Sam, but he had learned long ago not to show it. He supposed it was worse for her, since she was the only woman on this tour, and the men had little or no respect for women. From what Sam had overheard, these men thought women were little more than slaves. One of them, he believed, had a 'wife' who was only eight years old. What kind of people took little kids as wives?

"Miranda," he whispered. "Don't worry. We'll make it."

She stared up at him, her face streaked with dirt and tears.

"How can you say that? No one's coming to help us. We're going to die out here."

"Trust me, okay? I got a feeling."

"Your feelings ain't worth shit, Malloy," the Texan told him. "She's right. We're gonna die."

His voice rose in his anger, bringing one of the guards closer. Sam heard the unmistakable sound of a bullet being loaded into the chamber.

"Quiet!" the guard told them. "The next one who speaks will be shot!"

Everyone stared at each other, biting their lips. Sam sighed. He was tired and hungry but he didn't dare sleep in case he didn't wake up again.

He had to admit he was surprised the men had left them virtually untouched. He'd heard of other people taken as hostages who had been beaten, their bodies broken and bleeding from torture. Either these guys had other plans for them or they were under orders to leave them relatively unharmed.

Sam sighed. It was just a matter of time before they were rescued, he thought. He was so sure his dad was working on getting him out. He could feel it.

XXXXX

Jane was glad to be on solid ground again, even if it was in the dirty, bug-infested hole they called Leatherneck.

"Welcome to Leatherneck, ma'am," the gunnery sergeant told her, standing beside her. "If you need to freshen up, the barracks are this way."

Jane nodded. "I'll need a couple hours peace and quiet, just to rest a bit. Then I'll need some supplies. What's the ETD?"

"Twenty-two hundred ma'am."

Jane glanced at her watch. She'd already set it to Afghani time and saw it was close to seventeen hundred hours. God, she thought. Only been around marines a day and I'm already thinking like them.

She followed the man into the barracks and dumped her bag on the nearest vacant bed he pointed to. There was another bed beside it. DiNozzo came in and dumped his gear on the second bed.

"Oh no!" she told him. "You can go find your own bunk."

"Look around you, Pretender!" he said. "Welcome to co-ed living."

There was no point in fighting it. She pulled her shoes off and lay on the bed, pulling the coarse blanket over her.

"Fine! You better not snore!"

She rolled onto her side away from him and began going through the relaxation technique, knowing if she didn't let herself relax, she wouldn't sleep and that would not bode well for the journey ahead.

Jane was feeling much more refreshed when she rose two hours later. There was a lot to be said for the proverbial forty winks. She glanced around, realising DiNozzo was already up.

Jane found her way to the bathroom and splashed some water on her face, then changed into a black t-shirt, black jeans and a black jacket she hoped would be warm enough for the cold desert night. She went back out, grabbing her bag and left the barracks.

The captain glared at her, chomping on a cigar.

"Well, if it ain't the little woman," he said, smirking at DiNozzo. Tony turned and grinned at her.

"Hey babe!"

"Don't call me babe!" she snapped. "What's the situation? Has there been any more communication from the terrorists?"

"Negative!" the captain barked.

"Right. Show me your map."

The captain nodded to his sergeant and unfolded a map.

"Sure you know what you're doing, little lady?" he asked.

"First of all, captain, don't patronise me. I've been trained for scenarios like this since the day I was born. Second, don't fucking call me little lady! Now show me the topographical area."

Another map was placed near the first on the table. Jane studied it, then pointed to an area five miles west of where she believed the hostages were being held.

"Make the drop here," she ordered.

"You sure about jumping in darkness?" DiNozzo asked. Jane didn't know how he knew of the plan and didn't really want to know.

"Why? You afraid I'll get eaten up by the big bad?" she asked with a smirk.

"One can only hope," DiNozzo snarked back.

"Don't worry. I did a little light reading before I got here."

The captain spluttered, ash from his cigar falling onto the paper.

"Light reading?"

DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "Her idea of light reading is the Complete Encyclopaedia."

"Hmm, and what would you call light reading, DiNozzo? Archie Comics?"

Broots had introduced her to comics while she had still been in therapy sessions with Sydney and while she hadn't understood the entertainment value, she had begun to enjoy them.

"You know I can't let you go alone," DiNozzo told her.

Jane had just about had enough of this. She grabbed the man's arm and pulled him aside.

"Since when did this become an NCIS operation? I don't see any of the hostages being Navy, for Christ's sake."

"Gibbs insisted ..."

"Damn it, DiNozzo, these people are journalists. Civilians! Even Gibbs told Jarod it was his neck on the line if the SECNAV got wind of the operation."

"And he wasn't about to let some amateur go in there and get themselves killed."

"I am no amateur, DiNozzo!" She studied him. "I know what this is. It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?"

"What?" he scoffed.

"It's true! You don't want me going in there because I'm a woman. Never mind the fact that your own colleague could have pulled this off just as easily."

"This is not because you're a woman. Maybe I just don't like your attitude."

"Yeah, well it's mutual, DiNozzo. You're arrogant and obnoxious and frankly, hell would have to freeze over, pigs would have to fly and you would have to be the very last man on Earth before I would even touch you with a ten-foot pole!"

"Great! Glad to see we're on the same page!" He huffed. "I'm going whether you like it or not."

"Fine!" she said through clenched teeth.

"Fine!" he hissed back.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Fine!" She turned away, returning to the maps. "Green Arrow would so kick your ass," she muttered.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing!"

They continued going over the plan until it was time to leave. Jane took a deep breath as she stepped into the plane, listening carefully as the sergeant explained the procedure, refusing to let DiNozzo distract her. By the time they were over the drop point, however, she was a bundle of nerves.

Tony nudged her and her stomach roiled.

"You look a little green there, rookie!"

She closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled slowly, taking the parachute and strapping it on. DiNozzo assisted her with the heavy pack.

"Remember to count," he said as she stood beside the open door. He looked back at her, then whooped as he ran out. "Geronimo!"

"Geroni what?" she asked as she found herself pushed out. The seconds ticked by and she pulled the cord, squeezing her eyes shut. The parachute jerked as it opened and her momentum slowed. Jane adjusted the night vision glasses, a little piece of technology they had borrowed from Oliver, or Green Arrow, rather, watching as Tony fell a few metres below her.

Then the ground was rushing up to meet her and she just remembered in time to curl her body as she hit the surface, rolling to minimise the impact. DiNozzo was panting slightly as he ran up to meet her.

"Geroni-what?" she asked.

"Geronimo. He was a famous Apache chief."

"So why did you yell it?"

"Well, it's better than yelling 'Mommy'!" he grinned. "Okay, there's this story that they were testing the feasibility of parachute drops at Fort Benning in 1940. They wanted to speed up the drops so they decided to try a mass jump. Well, the guys were pretty nervous, and they went to see a western at the post movie house before the jump. Anyway, one joker told his buddies the jump would be no different than any other and his buddies responded by saying he would be so scared he wouldn't remember his own name. So he told them to prove he wasn't scared, he was gonna yell Geronimo! He did and it kind of stuck."

Jane shook her head, remembering something Dean had once told her.

"Demons and ghosts are easy. People are crazy."

She couldn't agree more.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane stashed the remains of her chute near a rocky outcropping. Out this far, there were bound to be militia groups patrolling the area and the last thing she needed was for their gear to be discovered and the alarm raised.

Tony was checking a compass, the illuminated dial shining green in the darkness. Jane nodded in the direction of the mountains.

"Let's get moving," she said.

They walked in silence for a while. Ahmed had agreed to meet them about a mile from the drop zone and Jane continued to check their surroundings, making sure she didn't get them lost. She had calculated the time it would take to walk the distance, counting on a pace of around 2.5 miles per hour, taking into account carrying anything heavy.

After ten minutes of walking, she finally turned and looked at her companion.

"Okay, you're not here to babysit, so tell me the real reason you're out here DiNozzo."

DiNozzo sighed.

"All right. A few years ago we found out there was a sleeper cell operating out of LA. Thanks to the Mossad, we managed to track down the members, but not before they were murdered by a Mossad agent."

"Operating on US soil?" she asked. "That couldn't have gone down well."

"It didn't. Anyway the cell was circulating information they were interested in buying weapons. We have a contact here who believes some of the weapons they bought made it out of the country."

Jane nodded. "Yeah. I helped some people just recently with a case of a guy doing gun-running. Among other things. Gibbs thinks these weapons are now in the hands of our kidnappers. Makes sense. I still don't see what this has to do with the Major Case Response Team."

"Because yesterday Abby managed to match up one of the weapons taken in the raid to a weapon used to kill a marine sergeant," he told her.

Jane and Abby had met briefly shortly after she had met DiNozzo. Jane had been fascinated with Abby's tattoos, not to mention the dog collar and would have spent hours quizzing the brunette on her lifestyle if DiNozzo hadn't interrupted.

"I thought those guns were lifted from the armoury at Fort Hood?" she asked.

"Yeah, they were. It was after they were taken that the sergeant was murdered. We never caught the killer."

That must sting, she thought. If there was one thing she knew about Leroy Jethro Gibbs, it was that he hated to leave a case unsolved.

"You think maybe he found out what the guns were intended for and was killed for it?" she asked.

"Yeah, and we're pretty sure the killer is either with the terrorists or is working with them."

Jane bit her lip. That meant there was a possibility the operation to rescue the hostages was already blown.

"If that's the case," she said slowly, "we could be walking into a trap. They may know to expect us."

"Why do you think I'm here?" he asked. "Someone's gotta keep your neck from the noose."

"Ha! I think you might have that backwards, DiNozzo!"

He ignored her, glancing at his watch.

"Where is this friend of yours?"

"First of all, he's not my friend. He happens to be a friend of Macgyver's."

DiNozzo sent her a confused look, which wasn't a new thing for him.

"Macgyver is the father of one of the hostages. He called us in."

"Oh."

Jane stopped walking and climbed up a rocky outcropping to get a lay of the land. Ahmed should be along any minute, she thought.

"Looking for Bantas?" DiNozzo asked.

"What?"

"Like in Star Wars?"

Jane groaned inwardly. She'd heard about DiNozzo and his movie references.

"You are such a dork!" she told him. "And it's Bantha, not Banta!"

"Whatever!" He was silent for a moment. "So what are you looking for?"

"Not Banthas anyway," she told him. "Some movie expert you are. Can't believe you don't know the third highest-grossing film in the world."

"Like I care," he snorted.

"That film introduced technological concepts we'd never even heard of and it's still thought to have been ahead of its time."

"I don't care," he said. "It's for geeks anyway."

"Fine!" she answered.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She heard the sound of a vehicle approaching and pulled out her handgun, watching as it stopped a few metres away. A man got out. Jane slid down the embankment and stood in front of him.

"Ahmed?" she asked in Arabic.

"Jane? I thought you were coming alone?"

"Yeah, so did I."

Macgyver had given her something to use to recognise Ahmed. The man in front of her was bald on top with a goatee. He was probably in his late thirties.

"So Ahmed, milk any goats lately?" she asked.

Ahmed grinned broadly. "No, my mother does it. The goat doesn't like me," he added sheepishly.

Jane laughed. "Macgyver told me you'd remember that."

"Macgyver's a good man. He saved my mother. And me. I remember there was a Soviet soldier looking for him and instead of shooting him, Macgyver brought the roof down. I asked him why he didn't shoot him and he said he didn't have to. Then the soldier saved our lives by pretending he had not seen us."

Jane nodded. "And you said to Macgyver that if he had shot the man as you had asked him to, there would be another soldier in his place. You might not have made it out."

"I learned a good lesson that day." He smiled again. "You speak very good Arabic, although your pronunciation is a little off."

Jane shrugged. "Ah whaddya want. I had maybe a day and a half to learn." Ahmed looked stunned, raising an eyebrow at her, but before he could say anything, DiNozzo stepped between them.

"All right, all right," the agent said. "Enough chit chat."

She glared at him.

"Friend of yours?" Ahmed asked.

Jane snorted. "Yeah, right!"

"We should go," the other man said, leading them to the jeep, getting in the driver's seat. Jane ran quickly to the other side, prepared to engage in battle with DiNozzo, who had been making a beeline for the seat as well. She managed to hook a foot around his ankle and trip him up. DiNozzo shot her a venomous look and she answered with a triumphant one, getting in the passenger seat. DiNozzo sat behind.

Ahmed laughed at them both.

"So how do you two know each other?" he asked in English, after she'd introduced the NCIS agent.

"Call it luck," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, bad luck," the other man snorted.

Jane ignored him. "Ahmed, have you managed to dig up any information on these people?"

Ahmed had switched to English for Tony's benefit but was now back to Arabic.

"Only that they have been operating in the area for some time. We believe they are an ... offshoot I think is the word ... of Al Qaeda, or one of the other groups affiliated with them."

"We heard that they're trying to force the government to release prisoners in Guantanamo Bay."

Ahmed nodded. "What's your plan?"

"Go in and rescue the hostages."

"What about him?" Ahmed said, flicking his eyes to the back.

"He's here looking for a murderer."

"What if the group already knows you're here?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she told him. Ahmed frowned, puzzled by the reference. Jane smiled at him. "There's no point worrying about it until we know there's something to worry about."

"It's risky," Ahmed told her.

"I'm used to it."

Jane glanced at her watch. They'd left the base about 2230 and it had taken about two hours including the time it took to get in the air, to fly out to the drop zone. By the time she and DiNozzo had started walking, it had been almost one. It was now two in the morning. She'd been up for almost twenty-four hours, not counting the two hours she'd slept.

The hostages had about forty-eight hours left by her calculations. This had to be precise.

Ahmed pulled up at what appeared to be a small cabin. There was a light burning from what appeared to be a kerosene lamp in the window. As the engine died, the door opened and a man stood in the shadow, clearly holding a rifle. He spoke in Arabic.

"Identify yourself!"

"It is I, Ahmed. I bring ... friends," he said, turning and winking at Jane.

He approached the man and there was a brief exchange between the two. The man ushered them inside.

There was a third man sitting at the table, grey-faced with dark shadows under his eyes.

"You're late," he grumbled.

"Couldn't be helped," Jane said.

Ahmed had told her he had contacted a militia group that was friendly toward Americans. They had agreed to help with the rescue operation, hating the way innocent civilians were caught up in the extremists' holy war.

The man looked at Ahmed. "A woman?"

"Hey, this 'woman' could kick your ass six ways to Sunday," DiNozzo said, rare praise from the agent, who had been suspiciously silent all this time.

The man frowned at him, not understanding the phrase. Ahmed said something in rapid Arabic that even Jane could not follow, but she got the gist of it. Jane spoke to him in Arabic.

"They won't be expecting it," she said, "which means they'll seriously under-estimate me."

The man grumbled but didn't reply. Jane nodded her head at Ahmed and Tony.

"We've got work to do," she said. "Did you get what I asked for?" she asked Ahmed.

The man nodded. "Yes. Although I'm still puzzled as to why you need fertiliser."

"Macgyver told me he once created small bombs using fertiliser and starter fluid. Crude but effective, and at least they won't kill anyone. Just a flash and a bang."

"How is that going to help you get to the hostages?" Tony asked.

She smirked at him. "I'm glad you asked that, DiNozzo. Since you invited yourself on this trip, I've had to revise my plan a little. One of us is going to walk in there."

He stared at her. "Oh, hell no," he said after a moment.

"I didn't say it was going to be you," she told him.

"Jesus Christ, no way. You'll be a sitting duck!"

"Not necessarily," she said. "Look, if my suspicions are correct, one of our guys is working with these terrorists. Someone has to be find out who."

"You still think they're expecting us?"

"I'm fairly certain that is the case. Yes."

"It's suicide!" he said, sounding almost angry.

"You don't like it, why don't you hitch a ride back to base," she told him, pointing to the door. "There's the door. Don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out."

"Now, you listen ..."

"No, you listen, 'special agent'. You may be the senior field agent in NCIS but here I'm in charge! This is my operation!"

He seemed to consider that for a long moment, then sighed heavily.

"All right. What's your plan?"

"I've jury-rigged a cellphone so even if they try to turn it off, it will still lock on to any cellphone in range and track all calls.

"What if they bust it open?" DiNozzo asked.

"The transmitter has its own independent battery."

"That's all very well, Pretender, but that still doesn't tell me how you plan on walking in there and coming out alive."

"Oh ye of little faith," she snorted. "Come on DiNozzo, think about it! First, they won't be expecting a woman to walk in and second, they won't think I'd be that brazen."

"I still think you're nuts," he told her.

She shrugged. "Whatever! You still haven't heard the second part of my plan."

"Am I going to like this?" he asked.

"Probably not, but I hear you're good at under-cover work."

Jane left Ahmed and the other men making up the little bombs. She'd added another chemical compound which, when ignited with the fertiliser, would create something similar to tear gas. She had learned a lot from Macgyver just by listening to his stories over the past couple of days. The man certainly knew how to make the best of a situation.

DiNozzo came out, sipping a brew that was supposed to be coffee, or what passed for coffee in these parts.

"You trust these guys?" he asked, nodding his head toward the three men working steadily.

"No, but I trust Macgyver and he trusts Ahmed."

"Who is this Macgyver, anyway?"

"Good question. I mean, he came to us to help his son, but if he had been able to, he'd be here himself trying to stop Sam from being killed. I guess you could call him, hmm, what's the phrase, 'Jack-of-all-trades'? He's spent years travelling the world helping people. About twenty years ago he was working for a think tank called the Phoenix Foundation."

"Yeah, I've heard of it. They do something similar to your foundation."

"Well, yes and no. I mean, the Onyssius Foundation was built on the idea of helping the weak and abused get justice. It's not just because of what happened to Jarod and I, although it's a big part of it. Occasionally, of course, we get called in on jobs like this because we can learn what we need to fast."

"Yeah, like speaking Arabic."

Jane shrugged. "Well, I have an eidetic memory. The thing is, though, a good memory is no substitute for gut feeling, as Jarod often says about your boss. Gibbs is good at what he does because he's good at those gut feelings. I have to admit, he doesn't like me much. Jarod seems to think I can be pretty cocky." She canted her head and looked at him. "Mind you, the same could be said about you."

"Don't even try to analyse me."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like it."

"Why? Are you afraid I might reveal your deepest darkest secrets?"

"Don't do it!"

She huffed. "Why the hell shouldn't I? You've been an obnoxious jackass from the moment we met. So why shouldn't I get my own crack at it?"

"Fine. Go ahead. Tell me why you think I'm so cocky?"

"So you can hide who you really are."

"And what's that?" he hissed.

"You act so immature at times and you seem to enjoy hazing your co-workers, with the exception of Gibbs and Abby Sciuto, who I might add, seems to share the same familial affection that you do."

"Familial affection?" He raised his eyebrows. "Where are you getting all this, Ms Freud?"

Jane ignored that. "I read your dossier on the plane."

"You hacked into NCIS files? You know that's illegal don't you?"

"Gonna arrest me, very special agent DiNozzo," she said, enjoying the little game and cat and mouse they were playing.

"Hell no, you'd kick my ass for sure," he told her. "So go on. I'm interested in seeing what great work of fiction you've come up with about me."

"The truth is, you have abandonment issues. Your mother died when you were very young and you rarely see your father, who disowned you when you chose to become a cop instead of following him into the family business." She didn't reveal that she knew Anthony DiNozzo senior was nothing but a con artist and any money he might have had was long gone. "Your fiancée left you practically standing at the altar and because of that you have a deep-seated distrust of women in general. You're a practiced flirt but if any woman ever got serious you'd want to run a mile."

"Well, congratulations," he said through bared teeth. "You found me out."

Jane turned to go back inside the cabin and he stopped her.

"It's my turn," he said.

"Oh no it's not."

"Oh yes it is," he said, mocking her. "The thing is, you're a bitch! You walk around like you know everything and it gets on my nerves. I mean, I work with a guy who can be a real bastard at times, but at least you know he cares. You ... I just don't get. There are times when I think you care and then you go and act like the bitch again, for no reason."

Jane stared at him silently, then began to laugh. Tony frowned at her.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You. That's what's so funny. You hate that you don't understand me but I think what you hate the most is that the more you flirt, the less I reciprocate. I mean, look at you. You think you're God's gift to women and you flirt with them all, married or single. It's like you're using them to validate your own belief in your attractiveness. And what really bugs you is that I don't find you attractive at all."

She continued laughing, not even stopping when he grew increasingly agitated.

"That is not how ..." he began.

Jane just shook her head. She didn't find him attractive. Oh, he was good-looking, there was no doubt about that, but she felt no physical attraction to him. It was strange, because of all the guys she'd known since she'd got out of the Centre, Tony DiNozzo was probably the one who closely resembled Oliver. Physically, at least. Although there was one thing she could say about Oliver, and that was he appeared to be more mature than Tony. At least until she had done what she did to him, sending him down a self-destructive path.

The NCIS agent looked offended. It was probably the first time he'd ever had a woman reject him the way she had.

"Sorry, DiNozzo, you just don't do anything for me."

"Unlike Queen," he said, clearly sulking.

"Oliver Queen has nothing to do with this," she said. "Anyway, how did you know I was dating him?"

"Please. The guy's a billionaire. The man can't walk down the street without his photograph being taken. I recognised you when we met in DC. I can see the appeal."

"Are you accusing me of being some kind of gold-digger?"

"God forbid," he told her.

"You know what, I'm sorry I brought it up in the first place."

With that, Jane turned on her heel and went back inside.

XXXXX

Sam shifted uneasily. He had caught snatches of conversation throughout the day and wondered if what he'd heard was true. Apparently one of the group had learned there was a rescue operation in progress. It didn't bode well for the rest of them.

Still, the men seemed fairly confident that the operation wouldn't even get close. As far as Sam could tell, they weren't sure if those coming for them even had the location pinpointed. He had heard something about a drop in the middle of the night. He'd frowned at that, wondering why they'd do the drop then, but he figured it was better under the cover of darkness. At least at night, any local militia groups could be excused for thinking it was just a plane lost in the dark, rather than someone actually mounting a rescue.

It seemed like just a matter of time, however, before they decided to either move the hostages or shoot someone. Sam realised time was running out.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun was just starting to come up, but the hostages had been awake for hours. Something bad was definitely going down, judging from the way the men were acting, Sam thought. He'd been watching one of the men, who was fingering the trigger of an Uzi, glaring at the hostages like it was there fault everything was going badly. The combined governments had appeared to make no move toward negotiating for their freedom.

Sam had to do something, but he knew if he made even one wrong move he was dead. He was sure his father would have been able to think his way out of the situation, but Sam wasn't his father. As much as he hated to admit it, even the ten years of being self-reliant after his mother had been killed hadn't helped him. He'd been paralysed by indecision and it was probably going to get him killed.

Suddenly, one of the men moved, taking off like a scared rabbit. Sam glanced at his fellow hostages, frowning slightly. Something was happening but he couldn't discern what. He strained to see what was going on outside the cave but his view was blocked by a heavy-set man.

"What is it?" Miranda asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "I can't tell what they're saying," he added, looking toward the two other men standing at the entrance.

Unbelievably, he heard the sound of a woman complaining at the top of her voice.

"Geez, you know, this isn't the way to treat a lady," she said. "Ow! Damn it, you just about wrenched my arm out of its socket!"

Sam gaped as he stared at the woman being half-dragged by the fourth man who had clearly gone chasing after her. She was dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt. Aged either in her late twenties or early thirties, she was extremely beautiful with long, thick dark hair and a fair complexion.

The woman was shoved roughly onto the makeshift seat they'd used when filming Sam to broadcast their message.

"Where is your boyfriend?"

The woman started laughing. "Boyfriend? Oh honey, have you got the wrong end of the ..."

She wasn't allowed to finish as the man back-handed her across the cheek, making her bite her lip. She licked at the blood, glaring up at the terrorist.

"I dumped him in the desert," she said.

"You expect me to believe you came all the way out here alone?" the man said in English.

She shrugged and looked at him almost dumbly. Sam frowned. The woman didn't seem very bright, but he could see the intelligence in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, but it was very clear the terrorists didn't.

Still, she'd obviously managed to piss them off. The man took a handgun from one of the others and pressed the muzzle to her head.

"So no one would miss you if I ... how do you Americans say ... blew your brains out."

She shrugged, not even showing any fear. Dumb, Sam thought. It looked to him like she was out here to commit suicide.

One of the other men pulled his friend away and the two had a heated discussion in Arabic. Neither one of them noticed the woman peering interestedly at them, frowning as if she couldn't follow the conversation, but Sam wasn't fooled. She seemed to know exactly what they were saying. Her gaze was flicking around the camp, taking in the surroundings, then she glanced at Sam and winked. Startled, he turned away. This was the rescue operation? he thought.

The heated discussion was over and the men were turning back to her. One of the other men went to get the camera. They'd obviously decided to use her to reinforce their message, Sam thought. He stared as the man returned, holding the camera, looking at it with a puzzled frown.

"What is it?" the leader asked in Arabic.

"The camera's been destroyed," his 'friend' said.

"What do you mean, destroyed?"

Sam watched as the camera was examined. He saw what looked like a small, green-tipped arrow in the side. Half of the plastic had melted around the arrow.

The men turned to the woman with accusing looks.

"How did you do this?" he yelled.

"Do what?" she asked, looking puzzled. She stared as they waved the camera in front of her. "Whoa! You know who that is? That's Green Arrow!"

The men glared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know about Green Arrow? He's famous in the States. He's like a hero. Oh man, you don't want Green Arrow coming after you."

"This is bullshit nonsense," the man yelled. "Find another camera and put her with the others!" He pulled her up, gripping her jaw between thumb and forefinger. The woman winced but Sam wasn't sure whether it was because of the bruising grip or whether the guy had fetid breath. It was probably a little of both.

"You will tell us everything and once we have what we need we will show the American infidel exactly what we plan to do if they do not comply with our demands."

The woman stood impassively until they shoved her into the cave and she stumbled. Sam caught her before she could fall to the floor. The other hostages were staring at her, dumbfounded. The woman's eyes sparkled as she sat next to Sam.

"Hi, I'm Jane."

Sam didn't care who she was. She was beautiful but completely insane!

"Your dad sent me," she continued.

Sam stared at her. If his father had sent her, Sam had to wonder if even his father was completely sane. The woman was just plain crazy walking into an ambush. Still, as he looked her over, Sam's mind began ticking over. She clearly had a partner, from what the men were saying, and a plan.

XXXXX

Jarod was busy working on a report when Broots came rushing in. Jarod frowned at the computer technician.

"What is it?"

"Uh, it's Agent Gibbs. He says it's urgent."

Jarod followed him out to the communications room. Gibbs was clearly in MTAC.

"What's up?"

"Abby managed to make a connection between one of the guns found in the raid and the death of a marine."

"What does this have to do with the hostage situation?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Gibbs said shortly. "That's why I sent DiNozzo."

Jarod blinked at him. "Are you kidding? Did you forget what happened when those two met in DC?"

"I don't forget anything."

"They'll kill each other," Jarod reminded him.

"Let's hope not." Gibbs looked at him curiously. "I know DiNozzo can be obnoxious but he's a good agent. I'd trust him with my life."

"It's not your life you're trusting him with."

"Your sister can handle him."

"I don't know," Jarod said dubiously. "Of all the guys she's met since she broke up with Oliver, he's probably about the closest in physical form. Given her ambivalent feelings toward her ex-boyfriend ..."

"Jarod, this is not about personal feelings."

"I'm aware of that." He studied the other man. "There's something else, isn't there? You think someone on our side is working with their side."

"Somebody had to get those guns to the terrorists."

"The ATF already have a case open on the man responsible."

"There still needs to be a way to transport them," Gibbs said. "Jarod ..."

"Look, if I know Jane, she's probably already worked it out, especially if she's forced to work with DiNozzo. She knows damn well you wouldn't send him in on a civilian operation."

"Look, I was never happy about this in the first place. My instinct was to let the government send in their own people."

"That would have just got the hostages killed that much faster," Jarod told him. "We both know Jane and I have the tools and the know-how."

"And what would you say if I told you I was sure your sister was walking into a trap?"

"I'd say batten down the hatches, because you don't want to mess with my sister when she's pissed off."

XXXXX

Jane sat beside Sam looking as if she didn't have a care in the world. She knew the terrorists were curious about her, not to mention the hostages. She hadn't spoken a word since introducing herself to Sam and she knew he was just as curious. His interest in her wasn't as keen, however, as the other hostages in the cave.

Since DiNozzo had revealed the real reason Gibbs had sent him, Jane had been considering the situation. The gunmen seemed to be very organised, not only in the way they'd been able to get hold of the weapons, but also in the way the convoy had been ambushed. The journalists had been on their way to a location that hadn't been disclosed in their travel papers. Which meant someone had arranged the ambush.

Still, there had been every reason to expect the plan might go awry, which, in her mind, meant someone had to be with the party.

There was also the fact that none of the hostages, apart from being grubby and a little banged up, had been touched. If she had done her reading right, there had been a few hostage situations where the hostages had been beaten, or even raped. Something wasn't adding up. The big question was, who was working with the terrorists?

So Jane had been spending her time studying the body language of each of the hostages. Except Sam. Macgyver's son was the type who could never stand for someone being hurt if there was something he could do about it. She'd felt the anger and the fear coming off him in waves, even as he told himself the situation was hopeless.

Finally, she had to turn to him, shooting him a look which told him to calm down. She flicked her gaze toward the cave entry. The four men outside were talking in rapid Arabic, discussing what to do with her. It was a good thing Oliver had taught her to use a bow and arrow, she thought, feeling a slight twinge. Not now, she thought.

She had kept telling her brother she was over Oliver. Even trying to prove it by sleeping with someone else. The truth was, she would never be over him. God, she sighed inwardly, why did everything go back to him? She needed to focus on the job.

"You just going to sit there, crazy bitch?" the young Texan asked.

"I don't see you trying to get everyone out," she told him.

"Yeah, well I ain't suicidal."

"You're not that bright either, are you?" she murmured.

The Texan began to move toward her, raising his fists. She stared at him coolly.

"Yeah, the only thing you know how to do is use your fists," she said. "Relax. It's all in hand."

"Why?" the Australian asked. "You got a mate out there?"

She shrugged non-committally.

"Well, your collègue better hurry up," the Frenchman told her.

"Why?" she said. "You got somewhere you have to be?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, they're gonna kill one of us tomorrow."

"Maybe even today," she told the Texan.

"Well, let's hope it's you," the boy snarked.

It would be so easy if she could just pin this on the boy. He seemed to fit the profile, and he hadn't been part of the convoy. He'd basically been hitching a ride. Still, Jane knew it wasn't him. The boy just wasn't smart enough to have been able to pull this off.

She went back to meditating on the problem, wishing she had her tablet with her.

The sun climbed higher in the sky and the heat outside was stifling. The four gunmen were still pondering the problem of the camera. She'd used an arrow with an electrical charge high enough to melt the wiring inside, and clearly hot enough to melt some of the casing. They wanted to make a point to the world, but they couldn't do it if they couldn't broadcast it.

She became aware of the sound of a jeep engine approaching as the temperature reached its highest. There was the sound of raucous laughter, and a bottle smashing on the ground.

The men began shouting in Arabic.

"What are you doing you fool? Get the hell out of here!"

Jane could hear someone singing. Badly.

"Oh when the saints ..."

"Oh when the saints," another voice joined in.

"... go marching in."

Jane winced as the horrible caterwauling deteriorated into what sounded like drunken laughter. Don't overplay it, DiNozzo, she thought. The others were staring toward the mouth of the cavern, clearly curious.

"Hey!" a voice yelled. "You guys having a party? We're looking for the party."

"Not here, American idiot."

The four men began to approach the jeep. Jane looked at Sam.

"Get ready to run," she murmured.

"What?"

There was a series of bangs just over the rise and the four men looked around for the source.

"Now's your chance. Go!" she told him, pushing him out of the cave and out of sight of the men. "Head for the jeep!"

As the hostages ran for it, Sam hesitated, going to pick up one of the guns. Jane sighed, shooting DiNozzo a look. They'd argued about this before she'd left the cabin. Jane had predicted Sam wouldn't be able to resist trying to stop the terrorists whereas DiNozzo had claimed Sam would just keep running. He clearly didn't know anything about Macgyver's son.

"Sam, there's no time for this," she told him. "Come on!"

"Someone has to stop them."

"Not you. Come on, Sam. Your father once told you that you have to draw a line somewhere. Someone else will take care of them."

Too late, she realised the men had cottoned on to what was happening. Jane ran for the jeep. DiNozzo threw her a semi-automatic and Jane fired off a volley of shots at the men, who had begun firing at them, despite their eyes streaming from the tear gas.

"Get down!" she yelled to the rescued hostages.

DiNozzo pulled her over the side of the jeep where the others were cowering. Ahmed was grinning broadly at her.

"Never a dull moment," he said in Arabic.

Jane grinned back, firing more shots at the men.

"This what you do for fun?" DiNozzo asked.

"Oh, you know, just an average day for me," she returned.

"I'd hate to see you on a not-so-average day," Sam quipped. "You know, I could have got us out of there. I was working on plan!"

"What with? A shoelace and a monkey wrench?" reminding Sam of a story his father had told her about a confrontation with a hitman.

"Stranger things are known to have happened," the photo-journalist chuckled. He was looking at DiNozzo, who quickly introduced himself.

The men from the militia group appeared over the rise, guns at the ready. There were four members, including the pair Jane had already met, and they were armed to the teeth. The firefight was short but decisive. The four terrorists clearly realised they were outnumbered and dropped their weapons.

Jane spoke in Arabic to the men.

"Can you transport them to Camp Leatherneck?" she asked. "They'll need to face the authorities."

The militia leader frowned at her.

"They will face our own people," he said.

She sighed. "Yes, but they have information we need." She nodded her head at DiNozzo. "He's here trying to track down a murderer. We believe one of our military was working with them."

The militia man shook his head. "We deal with them our way."

Jane tried to defuse the situation.

"I understand that," she said gently, "but we do need information. Perhaps you can help us get that information." She removed her cellphone from the pile of equipment taken from the hostages. "This might help."

She glanced at the leader of the terrorists. He was looking at one of the hostages, his gaze enquiring.

There was a brief argument between Ahmed and the militia leader but Jane paid no attention to it, edging closer to the freed hostages.

The woman from the BBC ran up to her.

"Thank you," she said, smiling.

"Don't thank me yet," Jane answered. "It's not over."

The woman frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sam looked around at her. "What's going on?"

"Perhaps you want to ask your Australian friend here," she said.

The man blanched as he looked at her.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he said.

Even DiNozzo was staring at her like she'd gone mad.

"Don't you?" she said. "This trip was supposedly off the books, yet somehow the terrorists knew exactly where to find you."

"Oh please! You screwed up and now you want to blame someone else ..."

"Quiet!" she snapped. "Let me tell you something, mate, I don't get caught unless I want to be."

"Are you saying you deliberately ..." Sam began, the truth dawning.

"That's right, Sam. Maybe you should ask your friend here why. I needed time to observe you all, because I knew one of you was working with the terrorists."

"That's crazy. Why would ..."

"Why indeed? Maybe because there was money to be made."

Sam looked at the Australian, then back at Jane, nodding.

"Of course," he said. "Hold us for ransom."

"It wasn't ransom," the Australian spat. "You bitch! I knew you were up to something."

Sam stared. He'd been right about his initial assessment of Jane. She had been pretending to be something else when she'd let herself be captured. Now that he thought about it, it all made a kind of warped sense. That ambush hadn't been random. It hadn't been coincidence they'd been on the same road as the terrorists.

"You bastard!" he said, glaring at the Australian. "You set us up. How much were they paying you?"

"Enough!" the man growled.

Before Sam could react, the man grabbed DiNozzo's handgun, surprising him, then pushed him out of the way. He turned the gun on Sam, firing. To Sam's shock, Jane shoved him away, stepping into the path of the bullet.

Her eyes went wide as the bullet hit her in the chest. She stumbled, hands reaching for something to break her fall. It was as if Sam was watching a movie in slow-motion as Jane fell to the ground. At the same time, DiNozzo wrestled the gun away from the shooter, knocking him to the ground with a blow to the face.

The militia men, who had been tying up the terrorists, looked around, yelling in Arabic. Sam's paralysis broke and he dived to the ground, his hand on the blooming bloodstain.

"Oh god, oh god!" he moaned. "Jane?"

Her eyes were open but glassy with shock. Her pulse was thread and she was taking very shallow breaths, almost hyperventilating.

DiNozzo crouched beside him, taking off his shirt.

"Use that and keep pressure on the wound," he said. He turned to the other man who had been with him. "See if you can get them to radio the nearest base. We have to get her to an allied hospital."

The man nodded, immediately turning to one of the militia men and speaking in rapid Arabic.

The agent looked at him.

"The best hospital is in Khandahar, but it's at least 400 kilometres away."

Sam knew the implications. It would take at least an hour to fly there.

"I don't know if she'll survive the trip," he murmured, not sure if Jane was conscious.

"We have to try, damn it!" DiNozzo told him, sounding upset.

Fortunately, the men from the closest military base had already been alerted to the operation and showed up a few minutes later. They quickly assessed the situation, with help from Tony, and transported the injured woman to the base. From there, they had her choppered out to Khandahar where she was immediately taken in to surgery.

Tony looked at him. "I have to go make some calls," he said.

Sam stared at him. The agent was pale, looking as if he might throw up. There was blood on his clothes where he'd wiped his hands. All through the flight in the chopper, he had sat by Jane, holding her hand, swearing under his breath.

"You stupid idiot!" he'd said, sounding choked. "Why'd you have to go and get yourself shot?"

He was still shaking as he walked away down the corridor to make his calls.


	8. Chapter 8

Jarod stared at his friend, his face pale, his stomach roiling. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Gibbs sighed. "It appears Jane put herself in the line of fire to save Sam."

Parker squeezed his hand, her own face white with shock. "Is she?"

"We don't know. She's in surgery. I can get you transport there, but it'll take time."

Jarod nodded, his mind still reeling from the thought that he could lose his sister. Why, why had she done it, he thought.

He disconnected the transmission and turned to Parker.

"Someone needs to be there," he said.

"Who? You heard Gibbs. It'll take too long for either of us to get there."

"I know who," he said. He pressed a few keys and a new image appeared of a blonde woman. "Chloe."

"Jarod? What's wrong? You don't look ..."

He waved his hand at her.

"We have no time for that. I need Superman."

"He's right here," she said.

Superman appeared on the screen. "Jarod? What is it?"

His words came out in a rush.

"It's Jane. She was in Afghanistan. She ... she's been shot. They don't think she's going to make it. It'll take a couple of days for Parker and I to get there and I ... I need someone ..."

"Say no more," Superman told him. "I'll fly over there immediately."

"She's in surgery right now. In Khandahar."

"Don't worry. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

XXXXX

Clark flew in as soon as he'd let his wife know where he was going. Both Chloe and Lois had been shocked and dismayed to learn their friend had been shot. It had taken time for them both to break through the barriers Jane had put up, especially after what had happened almost a year earlier, but they considered her a close friend, and it was fairly clear from what Jarod had told him, Jane felt the same way.

He landed on the grounds and walked in through the main doors of the combat hospital at the air field in Kandahar. The American-run hospital was staffed by people from a number of nationalities.

As he stepped inside, he could hear the noise and bustle. This was clearly an extremely busy hospital where people were being treated for all manner of conditions. He heard the moans of pain from one soldier who had been caught in a bombing attack near one of the military bases.

A nurse looked up and stared open-mouthed. Clark had forgotten to change out of his Superman uniform, but he had realised it was probably better that he did show up as Superman.

"Excuse me," he said. "A woman was brought in with a gunshot wound about two or three hours ago."

"Uh, of course, Superman, can you give me the name?" she said, looking down at the files scattered on her desk.

"Yes, ma'am. Her name is Jane Smith. I know the family and they asked me to fly in and check on her condition personally. They won't be able to get here for another couple of days."

"Well, I really can't divulge ..." She frowned as she read. "Oh! She's still in surgery. If you would like to take a seat in the waiting room, I can let you know when you can see the doctor."

Clark nodded his thanks and sat down to wait. He looked around the room. There were military personnel stationed at various exits and more people waiting. They all looked at him like he'd grown tentacles, then seemed to realise they were staring. A man in his thirties was talking on a phone, leaning against the wall. The man was a couple of inches shorter than Clark, with dark blonde hair and a cocky attitude, judging by the way he was standing.

He hung up the phone and sauntered over.

"Going to a costume party?" he laughed.

"No, this is my uniform."

"Yeah, what branch? Clowns R Us?"

"I'm Superman," Clark told him.

"Uh-huh."

"And you are ?" Clark asked pointedly.

"Special agent Anthony DiNozzo."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Special agent?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

"What would NCIS be doing here?" he asked.

"What business is it of yours?" DiNozzo asked sharply.

"A friend of a friend was brought here a couple of hours ago. She's still in surgery."

"This 'friend of a friend' wouldn't be a cocky bitch who goes by the name of Jane, would she?"

Clark bit his lip. "Yes, she is."

"Huh! Well, if that don't beat all."

"I don't understand."

"I wouldn't expect you to. Jane was working with me on an operation to rescue some hostages. The stupid bitch went and got herself shot for her trouble."

Clark frowned at the man. DiNozzo was cursing Jane for her stupidity but Clark had learned a little about reading other people from both Lois and Jane and he realised DiNozzo was feeling guilty for not being able to prevent it and hiding his concern for Jane behind a mask of anger.

He wanted to reach out and comfort the man, but decided the agent would be prickly enough as it was.

He continued to sit quietly, waiting for news. More than an hour later, a doctor in surgical scrubs came out, speaking to the NCIS agent. DiNozzo nodded toward Clark.

"Superman?"

The army surgeon turned and looked at him. The man looked a little like Alan Alda, the actor from M*A*S*H. Or maybe Clark had just imagined the parallels between this hospital and the old black comedy set during the Korean War. His father, Jonathan, had loved the show when he'd been a teenager and Clark had often watched re-runs whenever he was missing his father.

"Superman," the doctor said again. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a friend of Ms Smith's," Clark said. "How is she?"

The doctor ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, looking exhausted.

"It's touch and go," he admitted. "To be honest, we're not even sure if she'll make it through the night. She had extensive haemorrhaging, a collapsed lung and the bullet nicked a major artery."

Clark nodded. He would have to report back to Jarod and tell him his sister's condition. It was not going to be a pleasant time for the family, considering the fact that Jarod's parents had also recently passed away.

There was an older man who had been talking to DiNozzo intermittently. He had been watching the exchange, his expression full of concern. Clark approached him.

"Excuse me," he said.

The man turned, his eyes grief-stricken.

"Superman!" he said, almost startled. "I'm ... I'm Sam. The journalist. God, she stepped in front of the bullet. It was meant for me. Why did she do that?"

That was Jane, Clark thought. Giving more of herself than taking. She'd become so selfless in the past year.

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "If I had known ..."

He would have helped if only they had asked him to, even though Jarod would have refused anyway. There were just some things he preferred to solve himself and Clark knew he had to step back and let his friends be heroes in their own way.

"You weren't to know, Superman. I ..."

But Clark was hearing something. Alarms. His face drained of all colour. Then an announcement came over the loudspeaker.

"Code Blue, Code Blue, ICU room two. Code Blue."

"Oh no," Sam said, his face paling. Clark used his vision to delve through the wood and plaster to the room. It was Jane.

Sam looked as if he wanted to run to the room, but Clark stopped him.

"They won't let you, you know that."

"I know," Sam said, still looking worried.

Clark just listened, hearing the doctors working on Jane. He could hear the crash cart ratting along the corridor as the doctor called for adrenaline, then the paddles. She was dying! Come on, fight, he said silently, seeing the look on both DiNozzo and Sam's faces. They too appeared to be praying silently for her to fight. "Fight Jane," he whispered. "Don't give up now."

The time ticked away and minutes seemed like hours. Clark winced each time he heard them using the defribillator, increasing the shock. He heard the desperation in the doctor's voices as they continued to fight.

"God damn it, fight!"

Clark was startled to realise DiNozzo had left the waiting room and had gone down to the ICU. He sped out of the waiting room to the intensive care unit. DiNozzo was watching, tears streaming down his face. Clark guessed that for all his apparent arrogance, the agent was a man who cared deeply about others.

Startled at Clark's appearance beside him, DiNozzo turned. His mouth tightened in what seemed to be a snarl.

"I care about her too," Clark said.

"She can't stand me," DiNozzo said. He sighed. "God, she can be a bitch sometimes, but then she goes and does something like this. I just don't get her," he added, shaking his head.

"How do you know Jane?" Clark asked, relieved to hear Jane's heart beating regularly, becoming stronger by the second.

"I met her in DC about six months ago. She was there supposedly at a charity event, but she was working on a case, trying to help this kid whose father was murdered."

"What happened to the kid?" Clark asked.

"He was orphaned when his dad was killed, but because it was made to look like a suicide, the kid lost some benefits he was entitled to. The Onyssius Foundation got involved and, yeah, she proved the father was murdered."

"How did you meet?"

"She was attending a political soiree," DiNozzo said, smiling. "Part of her cover was trying to lobby for more benefits for the families of former servicemen. Our director made us go along."

"Let me guess," Clark smiled. "You flirted with her and she turned you down flat."

"Never did figure out why."

"Jane's complicated."

"You seem to know her very well, for someone who is a 'friend of a friend'."

"I'm very close to the friend," Clark told him.

"Yeah. Uh, look, I have to get back to the military base and upload something to Abby. Our forensics specialist," he added.

Clark nodded. "I have to contact her family anyway."

Jarod sounded upset when he called. While Jarod was not the most demonstrative of people, he genuinely cared about his sister and anything that hurt his family hurt him.

"How is she, really?"

"Uh, they almost lost her," Clark admitted, hearing the choke in his friend's voice on the other end. "She's still with us."

"God!"

"Jarod, she's strong. She's fought too hard to give up now."

"I should never have let her go on this assignment," Jarod said miserably.

"Do you really think you could have stopped her?" Clark asked quietly.

"I ... no, I suppose not," Jarod said.

Clark still remembered seeing her in the Centre when Lex had captured him, trying to study him. Jane had fought her conditioning then and she'd won. She had learned humanity and had become a better person for it. She still made mistakes but she hadn't given up trying just because of those mistakes. Jane was a fighter.

"Thanks, Clark," Jarod said. "I really appreciate you being there for her."

"No one should be alone," he told his friend. "I can stay as long as you need me to, although I will have to change into my 'other identity'. Superman attracts a lot of attention."

Jarod laughed weakly. "Yeah, I can imagine. I'll make a call to the hospital administration and make sure you're allowed in as Clark Kent."

"Thanks. I'll call Lois and get her to cover for me."

In the end, Lois decided the only way to cover was for her to tell their editor-in-chief that Clark had been offered a story in the Middle East on the hostage situation. Jarod used his influence with the NCIS agent Jethro Gibbs, getting Clark permission to visit the base and interview Tony DiNozzo. If the senior field agent was curious about Clark's sudden involvement in the story or how he'd managed to get the news, he didn't reveal it.


	9. Chapter 9

Jane not only survived the night, but woke up three days later to find her brother and sister-in-law sitting in what looked like very uncomfortable chairs beside her bed. Parker saw she was awake first.

"Jane? Sweetie, you're awake."

Parker's cry alerted her husband, who had been dozing in the chair. He immediately stood up and moved to her bedside, taking her hand.

Jane looked up at her brother, still feeling groggy. She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her brain. As consciousness began to seep in, she realised where she was. She had a naso-gastric tube in her nose, making it a little uncomfortable. Jane fought the feeling of drowsiness, but couldn't keep her eyes open.

"It's all right, little sis," Jarod whispered. "Go back to sleep. You're going to be okay now."

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again, waking again to find the tube gone. Her throat was sore and her head was still spinning. As she began to feel more and more aware of her surroundings, she felt tightness on her hand and realised another tube had been attached to her hand.

A man with dark hair and horn-rimmed spectacles smiled down at her. Jane frowned, not recognising the man for a moment.

"Hi," he said. "Welcome back."

Oh my god, she thought. Clark! She tried to sit up, finding her movement restricted.

"No, don't try to sit up. The nurse will help you with that."

She opened her mouth to say something but it just came out in a croak.

"Do you want some ice chips?" he asked. "They'll help your throat."

How would you know? she thought, then realised it was uncharitable. She nodded. Clark patted her hand and went out, returning a couple of minutes later with a cup. He placed an ice chip between her dry lips and Jane felt the relief of the ice-cold water as the chip melted.

"Lois and Chloe send their love," Clark said, sitting on the chair beside her bed. "Although Lois told me to tell you if you ever pull a stunt like this again, she will not be speaking to you."

Jane found herself snickering, even though it hurt like hell in her chest. She vaguely remembered what had happened, but not what had happened afterward.

"Anyway, DiNozzo told me to give you a message. He had to go back to the States, but he said to tell you, and I quote: 'always knew you were an attention hog, Pretender'. Then he said to say 'by the way, you do this again, I'll shoot you myself'."

Jane would have laughed out loud if it hadn't hurt. She settled for a wide grin.

"He left these for you," Clark said, pointing to some red roses on the table on the side.

Jane blinked away sudden tears. For all his obnoxiousness, DiNozzo was a good guy. While he hadn't completely agreed with the way she had planned things, he had been willing and able to do whatever it took to rescue the hostages and uncover the truth. He seemed to have relished the idea of pretending to be drunk with Ahmed in order to provide the diversion they needed.

Clark seemed to think he'd upset her.

"I'm sorry," he began and she shook her head, squeezing his hand.

"Uh, I should let you get some rest," he told her, placing the cup of ice chips in her hand. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you're going to be okay. Like I told Jarod, you're a fighter."

For Jane, the next week passed by in a blur. She wasn't really aware of the time passing, although she did manage to stay awake long enough to see her friend and her family. By the end of the week, she was able to sit up without pain and the hoarseness had gone from her voice.

She heard Jarod talking to the doctor in the corridor as she tried to eat the muck that passed for food.

"This is crap," she told Parker. "I can't eat this."

"Oh god, she's talking," Jarod commented with a sigh.

Jane sent her brother a glare. Parker winked at her, taking the tray.

"Don't worry," Jarod told her as Jane grimaced at the congealed mess that was supposed to be some kind of stew. "We'll make sure you get decent food back home."

"Home? You mean I can get out of here?" she asked.

"Whoa, now wait a minute," he said. "There are going to be some strict conditions. Number one, they will only let you go to be transferred to a hospital in LA. Number two, you're on strict bed rest for another week at least. Or until you can prove to the doctors you're not going to do anything silly, like, I don't know, go out on another job."

Jane snorted. "With you standing guard? Not a chance."

She was glad, however, when she finally made it to home soil. The doctors at the hospital had saved her life, but it was a military hospital and it wasn't designed for civilians.

The trip had been difficult at best. Because of the way Jane had helped bring down a group with ties to key players in terrorist plots in the US, the SECNAV had agreed to provide priority transport. Jane was still made to sit still in her seat for hours, as she wasn't strong enough to walk on her own, and the hospital had made sure she had everything she needed, including compression stockings on her legs to prevent deep-vein thrombosis. She felt a little silly wearing them but knew Jarod would still make her do it regardless.

Cedars-Sinai hospital was cleaner and the staff more efficient than the military hospital. Jane was settled back in bed within an hour of arriving back home and promptly fell asleep.

It occurred to her some days later that she should have at least sufficiently recovered to be allowed to go home, but then Jarod had confessed to her the doctors had been worried she might develop an embolism, considering the bullet had just narrowly missed her heart. She knew she was incredibly lucky to be alive.

She was surprised but pleased when one of her visitors the day after she returned to LA was Macgyver and his son. Sam had come to visit her in the military hospital, but since he'd been one of the hostages, the government, not to mention the media, had been clamouring for his account of the ordeal.

Sam argued lightly with her that he could have got them out and Jane cheekily retorted that as good as he was, he still couldn't match her skills. Macgyver himself laughed as the two of them bantered back and forth, the relief clear in his expression.

"I wanted to say thanks," he said, when he could get a word in edgewise. "Although saying thanks just doesn't seem enough for what you went through. You saved Sam's life and you were almost killed for it."

"I didn't do anything anyone else wouldn't have done," she told him.

The older man shook his head. "Jane ..."

"Macgyver, really. I mean, it's not just my job. I know you cared about what you used to do, and that's how I feel. The risk is worth it if I can make a difference."

He nodded. "You're right."

DiNozzo stopped by after a couple of days to let her know the outcome of the case. It turned out one of the men the terrorists had wanted released from Guantanamo Bay had had access to various resources they had needed to carry out a plan of another terrorist attack on American soil.

He had been a little distant but she had realised he cared more than he let on. He felt bad for letting her get shot 'on his watch' even though he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop it. For once, he hadn't flirted with her through the entire conversation. They'd both grudgingly accepted each other's abilities. Jane felt by the time the agent left they had begun to build a foundation for friendship, although there would never be anything else.

She found herself reflecting a lot more on her life. It was true, what she'd said to Macgyver. She did love what she did, but somehow, it all seemed so empty. Despite what she'd done, despite her family, Jane had no one to share her achievements with, and it was lonely.

She was staring out the window at the city when she heard a knock on her door.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?" Clark asked.

She shook her head. "Of course not. I was just thinking."

"May I ask what?" her friend said.

"About my life. If there's one thing the past couple of weeks have taught me, it's that I need to rethink some things."

"What do you mean?"

"Clark, do you know what I've done the last year? I've helped break a child pornography and prostitution ring, I've taken down a man using ghosts to scare people into selling their properties, I've helped take down a crooked DEA agent and I've rescued hostages from terrorists, but what do I really have to show for it?"

"You have friends. People you trust. People who care about you."

"I know. I mean, I know you and Lois and Chloe care about me. You guys are probably my best friends, but I need more. I ..." She sighed.

"I don't know Clark. Something's missing, you know?" She returned to looking out the window and her shoulders lifted in a heavy sigh.

"I miss him. I never thought I would, but I do."

"Who?" he asked.

She looked at him steadily. He clearly knew the answer, but she said it anyway.

"Oliver. I still love him."

"Jane, you know Oliver is ..."

"I know," she sighed again. "I mean, I don't know if we can ever get back together. He probably hates me, and he'd be right to."

Clark shook his head. "He doesn't hate you. He's just going through some stuff right now." Which was a very charitable thing to say, considering what she'd heard about the way Oliver had treated his friend. That was one thing she loved about Clark. No matter what, he stood by his friends if they were in trouble, or hurting. It took a lot for him to give up on a friend. He'd done that with Lex Luthor, but then, Lex had deliberately put his family and Lana Lang in danger and he'd done much worse since.

Jane turned away from her friend.

"I have to get over him, Clark. I have to learn to let him go or else I'll never be at peace with myself. You know, I forget who said it, but they really believe that if you 'fake it', sooner or later, you begin to believe it."

Clark looked sceptical. She could understand it, since she had been trying to pretend she was over Oliver Queen for a year now. The truth was, she had fallen deeply in love with him, and nothing would ever change that.


	10. Epilogue

Jarod picked up the phone, puzzled at the caller id.

"Clark?"

"Chloe found out something. About Oliver. He's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Do you think you can come to Metropolis?" Clark asked. "This is much better discussed in person."

"Of course. I'll be on the next available flight."

Parker came into the kitchen, frowning at him.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Clark just called, wanting me to go to Metropolis. He says Oliver's in trouble."

His wife's frown deepened. "Should I call Jane?" she asked.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Not until I know more. Besides, she needs this vacation."

As soon as Jane had recovered sufficiently from the shooting, Jarod had ordered his sister to take a vacation. Jane had not argued, planning a three-week stay in Oahu without a single murmur against it. He guessed she had realised she needed it too.

Jarod kissed his family goodbye early the next morning and left for the airport. Clark was waiting to pick him up when his plane touched down in Metropolis, but said nothing until they arrived at Watchtower. The building was still being extensively renovated, but Jarod had ensured state-of-the-art equipment had been installed.

Chloe looked at him as they entered.

"Good," she said. "I think you'll be interested in what I've found."

"What is it?" he asked, looking at what appeared to be a compound.

"It's a property near Cartagena, Colombia. Let's just say the DEA are very interested in it."

Jarod understood. The owner was most likely a drug baron and since the drug trade was their biggest earner, the government was turning a blind eye.

"What does this have to do with Oliver?" he asked.

"Because he's there," Clark said. "He's been kidnapped by the property owner."

Jarod bit his lip. He'd been looking for a way for his sister to try and resolve things with her ex-lover. Maybe this was it, he thought. Now if he could just get her to agree to go.

It looked like he was going to be recalling her from her vacation. She was not going to be happy.

Next up: Redemption - A Smallville/Pretender crossover


End file.
